The Circle Around the Fire
by Taliesin Stormlaw
Summary: When a 5-year-old Harry was abandoned in the cold Canadian wilderness, his future was very bleak. But he was rescued by a strange woman, who knew magic beyond that taught at Hogwarts. How will Harry's future pan out when he returns home? Slash later.
1. Chapter 1 Snow and the Snake

**The Circle Around the Fire**

**Chapter 1 - Snow and the Snake**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Harry Potter stories, its plot, characters, places, or any recognisable features in this story. Only unrecognisable plot features and characters are (hopefully) mine. This is written purely for entertainment purposes, and I am not benefiting financially from it.

**Warnings: **AU, slash (much later though)

This is my first fic, so constructive criticism would be much appreciated.

Harry's head made a worrying cracking sound against the floor of the car boot when Uncle Vernon threw him in. He narrowly avoided the large, heavy suitcase, and only just managed to get his feet fully into the boot before the door was slammed shut. The Dursleys got into the main body of the car, deliberately forgot about him, and drove off. They were, quite obviously, none too pleased about having to take Harry with them on their Christmas holiday. Miss Figg was, unfortunately, currently in hospital, and there was no one else who could take the miserable child while they were in Canada. They would have left Harry at home – they had before, and the five year old could fend for himself – but the local council had suddenly become proactive when it came to child safety.

"Hurry up, Freak!" Aunt Petunia hissed as she practically dragged Harry through Toronto airport, followed by Dudley and Uncle Vernon, as they hurried to catch their connecting flight. The fact that they were late was, quite naturally, blamed on Harry, who had stopped for barely a second after Dudley had run the luggage trolley over his foot. Harry had no idea where they were flying to next, as no one had told him. He hoped it wasn't too far away, as the last flight had been hell; he didn't know how he had survived seven hours sitting next to Dudley. It fortunately only lasted a couple of hours, and they were soon on the road in their rented car, somewhere in Canada. Harry thought it might be north of Toronto, as there was much more snow here than there. The landscape became more wooded but through the tress the snowy mountains behind could be seen. Or at least Harry thought this was the case, as the small window in the door of the boot didn't afford him much of a view. They soon reached the town in which they would stay. Harry wondered what on Earth the Dursleys could possibly find to do in this small town. He wondered if they were going skiing, something he had only ever heard about. The car jerked to a halt, throwing Harry to the floor. The boot opened, and the suitcase was dragged out by Vernon's meaty fist. Harry began to stand up, but the boot was hurled shut again, accompanied by a grunted profanity. The car jerked to a start again, and again sped off. Harry could see Petunia smirking at him through the small window as she walked off holding Dudley's hand. Harry didn't know for how long Vernon drove, but could only see the environment outside grow wilder and more foreboding, especially as it was starting to snow. When Vernon finally pulled to a halt and pulled Harry out, it had grown into a full blown blizzard. However, that was all Harry could see before there was a sharp pain on the back off his head and his vision went black.

When Harry awoke, the first thing he became aware off was the cold. He could barely feel his feet or his fingers, and the latter were starting to turn blue. The back of his head throbbed with pain, and his body wracked with violent shivers. He pulled his inadequate jacket around him and, with difficulty, stood. It was pitch black, and the snow and wind swirled around him, picking at him with icy cold fingers. The trees seemed to lean in towards him, menacingly. The only light came from the lights that hung in the sky above him, the veils of colour that glowed pink and blue and green. Harry was astonished, dimly remembering something he'd overheard on the Dursleys' TV one evening. Something about the Northern Lights? Harry was jolted back to the present by a faint crack of a twig.

"Hello!" he cried out to the darkness. "Uncle Vernon! Are you there?" he received no reply, and something told him that this was not just another Dursley joke. They had got rid of him for good this time. Harry didn't want to die. He didn't feel as if he'd done much, yet. He resolved to find shelter, or someone to help him. With that in mind he struggled forward through the knee-deep snow. "Hello?" he called again. "Help me! Is anyone there?" A distant wolf howled in reply. This startled the little boy so much that he tripped over a tree root and fell with a cry. He picked himself out of the slushy snow, and looked up. Right into the face of a small snake, who had been sheltering beneath the offending tree root. Harry jumped up in shock. "Snake, snake! Don't bite me!" he cried.

"How rude," replied the snake? If snakes could sound offended, then this one did. "As if I would bite you for no reason."

Harry was dumbfounded. His small mouth hung open, but he eventually spluttered out a question.

"You can talk? I didn't know that snakes could talk!"

"Well, it seems that we can," the snake replied. "And excuse me, but it's you who can talk. _You_ are speaking _my _language."

"I am?" asked Harry. Even as he said it, he was aware that what came out of his mouth were not words, but a strangled snarling hiss.

"May I make a request?"Asked the little snake.

"Of course," replied Harry.

"May I make use of your artificial coverings? I am very cold."

"My arti…" Harry realised that the snake was referring to his clothes. "Of course," he repeated, smiling with the innocence of the very young, and reached forward to pick the snake up. He did so instinctively gently, and placed the snake inside his jacket pocket.

"That's better," said the little snake, sounding, if snakes could, smug and cosy.

"If it's so cold, what are you doing outside?" Asked Harry.

The snake seemed to sniff, "My human owners abandoned me."

"I'm so sorry," replied Harry. "We're very similar, though. My family left me here too." The danger of Harry's situation came back to him in a rush, and he started to cry. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

"There, there," said the snake. "Just sit down by the tree where there is shelter. My name is Anissu, and together I'm sure we will figure out something."

Harry sniffed. "Hello Anissu. My name is Harry Potter."


	2. Chapter 2 Rescue

**The Circle Around the Fire**

**Chapter 2 - Rescue**

Taqqiq lit the ritual fire, the Ikuma, and cast in the magic herbs. Smoke billowed high and swirled around her, filling the cave. She intoned the chant, slow and deep, and the smoke shimmered. It became regimented, less corporeal, more transparent. And suddenly, in a rush of magic, it _changed_. At once, it was awash with colour and light. A quiet hum could be heard over the crackle of the fire. Like the aurora of the Northern Lights, the veils of colour danced around her. Then, Taqqiq's chant changed tune and the lights followed suit, forming a circle around her. The circle span, faster and faster, light and colour and pure harmonics emanating from the circle. Taqqiq raised her hands and gestured towards the glowing, colourful circle. In an instant, it stopped, hanging in perfect stillness. Taqqiq knew that it was time, and closed her eyes. Using the bridge to the outside world that the circle of colour was, Taqqiq sent her mind beyond her body. Opening the Sight, she saw her body and the fire, and the circles of light from above. Then, she flew. Out of her cave, down the mountain, across the snow covered trees. She was content to see that all seemed well. Then she was rudely jerked out of her contentment by a distressing sight – a small boy, who couldn't have been more than five, wandering alone in the snow. She opened the ears of her mind, the Hearing, and heard his pitiful cry: "Help me! Is anyone there?" Taqqiq was immediately alert, and pulled herself out of the Searching trance. She hurtled back to her body, in which she scrambled out of the small cave entrance. Standing on the small ledge, she raised her lips to the moon, and howled.

xxx

Harry shivered in the inadequate shelter of the tree, cradling Anissu, who was barely moving in the cold. The howl he had heard earlier had since been answered numerous times. The howls seemed to be coming closer. Harry was sure he should be worried about that, but he was too cold to bring himself to care. He wasn't sure how long he has been there before he heard the sound of something moving very quickly through the forest towards him. He heard many speeding feet in the deep snow, and grunts and growls. In the dimness of the forest he could just make out five large shapes running through the trees. Harry closed his eyes, uncaring, falling into cold, dark oblivion.

xxx

Taqqiq arrived on the scene not long after the wolves. They were clustered around the foot of the tree, the little boy at their centre, kept warm by their bodies. She barked her thanks to the Alpha, who yipped in reply, before loping off into the darkness, followed by his pack. Taqqiq lifted the little boy, cradling his small form carefully in her arms. She wasn't big herself, but the child was exceptionally under-sized. This boy has not been fed well, thought Taqqiq. He was just breathing, but his lips and fingers were blue.

xxx

Harry stirred when he was moved, and he felt Anissu slip from between his fingers.

"Don't go, Anissu!" He murmured, with the last of his strength.

xxx

Taqqiq started in surprise. The first words the boy had spoken were in English, plain and simple, but the last word was a snarling hiss. Taqqiq understood it perfectly well as a name, however, and looked down to the ground to see the tiny, unmoving snake against the pale snow. Picking it up, she felt its faint, flickering pulse beneath her fingers. She needed to get them both back home, quickly. She glanced skyward, and without so much as a flicker of an eyelid, she launched herself into the air as a great eagle, as tall as a man. Northwards she flew, the snake in her beak and the child in her talons, and as she flew, she mused. A natural Caller, she wondered. And a snake-speaker at that. This boy was proving interesting.


	3. Chapter 3 Dumbledore's Interrogation

**The Circle Around the Fire**

**Chapter 3 – Dumbledore's Interrogation**

_**AN: Harry Potter 7 film – Wwwoooooooowwww! I'm definitely not going to be able to kill Dobby in this fic, it's too sad :(**_

Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Grand Sorcerer, Order of Merlin – First Class, was panicking. Miss Figg, his sentry who continually reported to him on the Dursley household, and about little Harry, had just brought him most distressing news.

It had been earlier that morning, as Albus was returning from breakfast, when the dungbomb had been dropped. He distinctly remembered walking up the moving stairs to his office, whistling a slightly out of tune version of 'The First Noel', which died on his lips when he heard an urgent voice from within his office.

He hurried inside, and rushed to the fireplace, in which sat the head of Arabella Figg.

"There you are, Albus," she cried out, relieved. "I have been calling for half an hour!"

"What is it?" asked Albus. "What's happened?"

"The Dursleys have returned from their holiday, but Harry is not with them."

The blood drained from Albus' face as she continued. "Furthermore, they seem not to have any recollection that they ever had a nephew. And Diriwell is nowhere to be seen."

Duncan Diriwell was the member of the Order of the Phoenix who had been keeping an eye on the Dursleys while they were away.

Albus' clever mind, although in turmoil, began to work.

"Perhaps they were Obliviated…" He hummed under his breath as he thought. "I will call a meeting of the Order. Expect to have to tell your account again."

She nodded before her head had withdrawn from the fire and disappeared.

Immediately, Albus pulled a red feather from the top draw of his desk. He gave it a shake, and it began to glow. All Order members had a copy of this feather, and all were charmed to glow when a meeting was required. It would also function as a quill, telling them the precise location and time for the meeting.

Albus' mind returned to the matter at hand. He needed to visit the Dursleys. He hurried down the staircase from his office, and strode down the corridor to the entrance hall. He half jogged across the grounds, as fast as his ageing body would allow, and was thankful that the students who had remained at school for Christmas were all still at breakfast, and therefore unable to see him embarrass himself. His breath was condensing in the air before him as he reached the school gates. He pushed them open, glancing up at the statues of winged boars as nostalgia crossed his face. He shook it off, and as soon as he exited the extent of the Anti-Apparation jinx, he disapparated with a barely audible pop.

He reappeared inconspicuously behind a tree in the quiet muggle suburb of Little Whinging. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary on Privet Drive, not a blade of grass was out of place, nothing that could be deemed _unusual_. Privet Drive was quiet, it being a Sunday morning, but Albus cast a powerful Disillusionment Charm on himself, just to be sure, before he stepped from his hiding place. He made a beeline for the door of No. 4, delicately avoiding stepping on a sleeping cat, and rapped three times on the prim wooden door. He heard someone moving on the other side of the door, and discretely removed the Disillusionment Charm. The shuffling stopped. Albus leaned forward, and put his eye to the peep hole. On the other side, a watery blue eye widened and hastily disappeared.

The door remained closed.

Running out of patience, Albus unlocked the door with a spell. Slowly it swung open, revealing a deserted corridor. The carpet was sickeningly floral, and there were shoes arranged neatly on a small shelf beside the door. A door led to a kitchen in front of him, with a staircase to the right and another door to the left.

Albus stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and glanced through the door to his left. Inside was a neat and proper living room, with more disgusting floral carpet, complete with fireplace and mugs of tea steaming on a prim little coffee table.

A settee sat directly opposite, facing him, upon which sat Vernon and Petunia Dursley, cowering in fear. A fat little blonde boy, who must have been their son Dudley, was peering out from behind the couch.

Petunia Dursley spoke in a quavering voice: "Who are you and what do you want?"

"You know perfectly well who I am, Petunia," Albus replied firmly.

"What are you talking about?" thundered Vernon. "How dare you speak to my wife in such a way, when you are breaking and entering!" He seemed to have regained his normal bluster.

Albus didn't reply. He knew very well that the Dursleys knew who he was. He grew suspicious, and decided to err on the side of caution. He surreptitiously checked for enchantments or presences within the house. He detected none, save those that he himself had placed in order to protect the family and Harry. But wait… There seemed to be some sort of lingering enchantment hanging around the three Dursleys.

He looked closer, and he sensed a spell on each of their minds. He would have to use Legilimency.

He had no time for an explanation, so he sent Petunia and Dudley to sleep with a spell, to Vernon's outraged cries ("You've killed them! You've killed them!"), and turned his gaze on Vernon. He met his eyes, and delved into his thoughts.

At first he found nothing but fear and anger, which increased exponentially as Vernon realised his mind was being read, but as Albus searched deeper, things didn't seem quite right. There were disjunctions in his memories, as if older and newer memories didn't match up. But more than that, Vernon hadn't noticed the difference. And even more telling; all the disjunctions occurred at the same moment in time.

That settles it, thought Albus – he's been Obliviated. And not very well. Perhaps they were in a hurry. Vernon had no recollection of Harry or of magic, but would eventually notice inconsistencies between what he remembered and what he perceived, and the Charm would eventually unravel.

But there was more. Albus frowned as he detected something else. Something more sinister entered his senses. In a memory repressed by the Memory Charm, Albus discovered a sudden flare of hatred and anger towards…Harry Potter. And not a natural flare of emotion. Completely and utterly uncaused, unadulterated, murderous hatred. Albus knew of only one spell that could cause such a reaction from a person. The Coercion Curse. This curse took someone's natural feelings and amplified them, taking them beyond their natural extremes. Vernon disliked his nephew, yes, but the curse had turned that into a berserk desire to be rid of him. It also placed a subtle suggestion into their mind. In this case probably to get rid of Harry. Of course it was completely illegal, and was closely related to the Imperious Curse.

Albus would need to remove the Memory Charm if he was to get to the bottom of this.

Memory Charms acted like a chain – break one link and the rest would no longer hold. Albus turned his attention to one particular memory in Vernon's mind. In it, Vernon remembered sitting at the breakfast table along with Petunia and Dudley. The fourth chair was seemingly empty. However, this was where the bad casting of the Charm came in handy. A fold seemed to exist in the air above the seat, as if reality had been crumpled. Vernon would eventually notice these folds in his memories where his nephew had been erased. Albus pushed his focus into the fold, and mentally spoke the counter-curse. An image of Harry Potter eating toast erupted into being.

Withdrawing from that memory, Albus gathered all the affected memories together. The counter-spell spread through them like wildfire. One in particular caught his attention. It was of Vernon hitting Harry over the back of the head in the middle of a snowy wood, and then dumping him far from a road before leaving him. Albus was surprised to find that he recognised the place. Well at least he knew where Harry was now. And if his suspicion was correct, also in safe hands.

With a grim smile, Dumbledore turned his attention to the Coercion. He removed that also with a counter-curse, and then left Vernon's mind. However, not before he caught a glimpse of the person Vernon remembered casting the spell. He gasped in shock, but not really in surprise, as he had suspecting this since Miss Figg's report.

He cast the same counter-spells on Petunia and Dudley, and then left them reeling in their living room. He strode out of the house, barely concealing his temper. As soon as he had exited the Anti-Apparation Jinx that surrounded the Dursley's house, he disaparated, heading for Hogwarts and the meeting. The Order of the Phoenix had a traitor in their midst.


	4. Chapter 4 When Diplomacy Fails

**The Circle Around the Fire**

**Chapter 4 – When Diplomacy Fails**

Harry had been in Taqqiq's care for a week before he spoke to her. The tiny boy had spent the majority of that time sleeping, resting and regaining his strength. He took well to the broth that Taqqiq cooked for him, and she hoped that he would soon get some meat on his bones. While he was awake he mostly watched Taqqiq as she performed her regular duties. He was fascinated when she made potions and herbal remedies in the great clay pots arranged around the fire. He watched avidly as she sent herself into a trance in order to survey the forest. He was especially interested when she spoke to the animals. She had confirmed with Anissu, the little snake she had rescued along with Harry, who was quite talkative when he wasn't freezing to death, that Harry could in fact talk in the snake language, but hadn't known that he could. She was gradually beginning to suspect that the child had not been brought up by those who knew magic.

That would fit in with her suspicions about who the child was. When she had first seen the scar that marked his forehead, she had immediately seen it for what it was – the mark of a powerful curse. She could feel the magic dripping from it, like blood, and her first sight of it had caused a memory to stir in the back of her mind. She couldn't quite place it, but the simple ritual she intended to do should settle that. And this day, as the first day that the child had first spoken to her, was perfect.

He had woken in the morning, after she had already lit the fires and started cooking porridge for breakfast.

He opened his mouth, and his lips worked silently for a few moments, before he spoke.

"Hello?" His voice cracked from disuse, and he spoke in Parseltongue, but speaking in any language was better than not speaking. "Thank you for saving me." He still spoke in the serpent language, so she replied in like.

"Any time, my child," she hissed while she continued her stirring of the porridge. "Anissu tells me that your name is Harry." He nodded, and then looked expectantly at her. "My name is Taqqiq," she said. And then Harry smiled for the first time, and it was like the sun burning away the mist the way his grin brightened his face.

For the rest of the morning, he said little to her, but little was more that the nothing he had been saying before. However, he was very chatty with the little snake, Anissu. The two were quickly becoming as thick as thieves. Taqqiq suspected that if snake years and human years were comparable, they would probably be about the same age.

When the Sun reached its zenith in the sky, she began to prepare her ritual. She intended to contact the leaders of her order, who were both wise and powerful, to inform them of her findings. She went through the opening at the back of her cave, through to the room she set aside for working her magic, and got to work.

She took two different herbs, which she crushed together with a mortar and pestle. She mixed them together with melted snow from outside the cave until they formed a dull green paste. She chanted a couple of words over the mixture, which brightened instantly to pure white. She lit an Ikuma, a ritual fire, on a pile of a mixture of oak and hawthorn wood, with a click of her fingers.

She dipped her index finger into the paste and drew it across her cheek. A curved white line underlined her eye. She did the same on the other side, and then outlined her mouth. These would allow her to be seen and heard through her link to the Elders. She then took the same herbs she had used in the trance in which she found Harry, and cast them over the fire. Again smoke billowed high. Again she chanted the familiar words. The veils of light shimmered into existence, and danced around her in a circle, faster and faster. The sweet harmonics each emitted combined to produce a chord more beautiful than any ever heard by human ears. At her signal they stopped, and Taqqiq sank into her trance. She opened her Sight, and as if in a dream, flew from her cave, leaving her body behind her. She flew faster and faster, soon leaving her forest far behind. She flew across great plains, and a wide ocean, the waves flickering beneath her at blinding speed – the speed of thought. It was barely an instant before she reached her destination. Coastline quickly approached, followed by mountains and forests. A great ruined castle loomed before her, perched on a hill above a lake. In the centre of the ruins, she found the Elders, sitting in council, as they did every evening – for where they sat was so distant from Taqqiq's cave that a whole half day had passed there that had not passed at home. Taqqiq's astral form faded into existence in the centre of their circle.

The ten Elders began to murmur when they noticed her, before quietening as the head of the council, Lema Longstaff, the first among equals, stood and addressed Taqqiq.

"Taqqiq of the Western Taiga. Welcome to council." She was a bent and wizened old witch who spoke with a distinct Scandinavian accent, with wisps of snow-white hair blowing about her head in the breeze. "All is well with your … responsibility, I trust?" She pulled her cloak tighter around her as if suddenly cold. Taqqiq waved her insubstantial hand.

"Don't worry, Lema. All is well in that respect. There hasn't even been a slight problem since that English madman tried to steal it 50 years ago. No, I've come about a new issue." The Elders set to muttering again.

Lema shushed them and gestured for Taqqiq to continue. Taqqiq began to relate the story of her finding of Harry, her discovering that he was a Parselmouth, and her finding of his scar.

At this there was uproar. All the Elders began to talk at once, and soon some were on their feet. Lema flicked her wrist, causing the air to crack like a whip. The unruly council members resumed their seats, suitably cowed. Lema addressed Taqqiq again.

"You have become forgetful, Taqqiq," she said good naturedly. "Do you not remember that it was the English madman whom you sent packing who gave the scar to young Harry?"

Taqqiq's eyes widened as she remembered. _Of course!_ She thought. _Harry Potter!_ And then: _and Lord Voldemort_.

The council discussed the situation for a minute, before reaching a consensus.

"You must care for the boy, and protect him," announced Lema. Taqqiq nodded. "You must also teach him our magics, as your apprentice. He may one day be suitable for the _empty_ position." All present knew to what Lema referred. "Do not forget to train an apprentice for your own position, however."

Taqqiq nodded again and voiced her thanks before her astral form dissolved as she returned to her body.

xxx

Albus Dumbledore reappeared outside the gates of Hogwarts after visiting the Dursleys. After breathing deeply to calm himself, he made his way up the frosty lawn to the castle. It was still early, and, the days being short, the sky was still grey. He entered the school through the main doors, and was immediately confronted by Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of Hogwarts, wearing a tartan dressing gown.

"Is everything all right, Albus? My feather… is there going to be a meeting? Is something wrong?" Minerva on a good day was reasonably difficult to deal with, but a worried Minerva was absolutely formidable.

"Calm yourself, Minerva," said Albus, trying to placate her. "Yes, something disastrous has occurred. Come with me to my office where we can discuss in private."

Minerva nodded, suitably mollified, and followed him up the grand staircase in the direction of his office. After giving the password to the gargoyle, which sprang aside, and climbing the moving staircase, Albus sat down in a comfy armchair beside the fire. Minerva followed suit, taking the spare.

"So, Albus. Tell me…" she began.

Albus held up a hand to stop her, then plunged straight to the point.

"Harry Potter has gone missing." Minerva gasped in shock, putting her hand to her open mouth.

"How?" she whispered.

"While he was on holiday with his relatives, someone caused him to be removed from their custody." At her questioning glance, he continued. "With the Coercion Curse." Minerva gasped again.

"Is he all right? Have you found him?"

"Not quite," answered Albus. "But I know where he is. I believe him to be in the care of an old friend of mine."

"How so?"

"When I was removing the curse, as well as a Memory Charm, from Vernon Dursley, I found a memory of the location at which he had left Harry.

"They _abandoned_ him!" interrupted Minerva. Dumbledore frowned at her before continuing.

"I recognised the place." Now Minerva was silent. "It was near the home of, as I say, an old friend of mine. And if she is like she used to be, then she will have found Harry within minutes of him being left."

"Who is this woman?"

"Her name is Taqqiq. She is a Mamanti." Minerva raised a questioning eyebrow, and Albus sighed. "I'm not surprised that you don't know. Most in this country have forgotten who they are. A Mamanti is a protector. They wield the lightest magics in the defence of the world against the dark."

Minerva frowned. "Then why didn't we receive any assistance from these Mamanti when You-Know-Who was at large?"

"Voldemort, Minerva, Voldemort." Each time he said the name she shuddered. "Each Mamanti is assigned to protect a region. Taqqiq is Mamanti of the Western Taiga – that's most of Canada. The Mamanti for the Islands at the Back of the North Wind, the British Isles, was killed a hundred years ago without leaving an apprentice. The post has been unable to be filled, as a Mamanti must be born in the country they protect – otherwise their power will not be sufficient to completely protect the realm, as being born there grants power while within it. A Mamanti must also train a Mamanti, so the absence of a Mamanti in these islands has meant that potential apprentices have passed by unnoticed. This absence is the reason why the two greatest dark wizards of the last thousand years, Grindelwald and Voldemort, have both been able to gather power while in Britain. And both in the last century."

Minerva contemplated this information. Albus spoke again. "We had better make ready for the meeting. There is some more news I will have to share. The caster of the Coercion was one of our own, or at least we thought he was." Minerva was not slow and she worked it out quickly.

"Not… Diriwell! No, it can't be!"

"I'm afraid it is. I saw a memory in all three of the Dursleys' minds. The proof is incontrovertible."

xxx

The meeting went smoothly. Duncan Diriwell was conspicuously absent, a fact that everyone noted when informed of his betrayal. Albus assured them that he hadn't yet discerned whether he was under the Imperius Curse, or whether he had fallen to the Death Eaters, although he feared the latter. Albus decided not to tell them of Harry's disappearance. He would leave that until he had more information. They discussed the latest movements of Voldemort's followers, who still caused some trouble five years after his apparent death.

As everyone filed out of Albus' office, he beckoned Severus and Minerva aside.

"We need to find Duncan Diriwell. We must discover whether he was under the Imperius Curse or not." He didn't really want to mention the other option.

They agreed and together they walked out of the castle and the grounds, and apparated.

Duncan Diriwell lived in a large town house in a prosperous area of London. It stood on the corner of a quiet square around a small garden, as are common in some areas of central London. Muggle cars were parked all the way around the square against the curb. Albus, Minerva and Severus reappeared in the walled garden, so as to avoid being seen. Severus unlocked the gate to the garden with a silent spell, and they made their way across the road to the tall house. They stopped at the doorstep.

"Right. Listen closely." Albus beckoned the other two close. "He alone will be no match for us. However, if other Death Eaters are also within, and we find ourselves failing, then escape is priority. Our lives are more important than this information. Understand?"

They nodded. Albus tried the door, which was unsurprisingly locked. He tried the same spell that Severus had used on the garden gate but to little effect, although that was also to be expected.

"Stand back," he whispered. He stepped back a pace, before turning his wand on the door again. He cast a Silencing Charm on it, before blowing it inwards, blasting it off its hinges. It made no sound at all, due to Albus' spell. The three picked their way through the wreckage into the dark hallway. Albus peered into a living room to the left, and Severus went ahead, followed by Minerva. She quickly returned, and urgently beckoned Albus through. He followed her into a large kitchen. A fire was still smouldering on the fireplace, with charred remains of paper scattered around it. More papers were strewn across a thickset wooden table, and pots, pans and cutlery cluttered the tiled floor. Albus cast the _Homenum Revelio _Charm to ascertain whether the house was occupied. It wasn't.

"He obviously left in a hurry," drawled Severus. Albus didn't answer, but leafed through the papers scattered on the table.

"Albus…" called Minerva. She had been inspecting the burnt papers on the fireplace, but was unable to find any legible writing. Albus went over to where she was crouching on the floor. "Look," she said. She pointed to a small pot that lay in two halves on the hard floor. Grey powder covered the floor around it. Albus bent to sniff it. "Floo powder, don't you think?" Asked Minerva. Albus nodded, and Minerva turned back to the fireplace. Albus could see in his mind Diriwell flying about the room in a panic, trying to find the papers to burn, before fleeing through the fire, knocking over the pot of Floo powder in his hurry.

Minerva held her wand inches away from the smouldering embers and muttered a spell. Thank goodness it was still hot, or the spell wouldn't work. The glowing ashes shivered, and began to flurry about on the hearth as if in a high wind. They finally settled, and Minerva leaned forward. In the remains of the fire, written in glowing letters, were the words:

_Miller's End_

"Well, we know where he went, then," said Severus as he looked over Albus' shoulder

They each scooped up some powder from the pile on the floor, and after Severus re-lit the fire, stepped into it, casting their Floo powder and crying their destination.

They emerged one by one through a small fireplace, and where immediately under fire from the inhabitant of the room.

Duncan Diriwell, a small, nondescript balding man, was cowering behind a disgusting orange armchair on the other side of the dirty sitting-room. He was casting curses over the chair with his stubby wand. Minerva was through first and immediately began to return fire. She transfigured the armchair into a tiger, which leaped at the terrified man. He screamed a spell at it, his wand hand shaking in horror. The tiger dissipated into thick smoke, but by now Severus and Albus were also through the fireplace, and joined in with the duel. The poor man stood no chance, and was quickly overwhelmed. He cast spells wildly, giving into his panic. He had never been a particularly calm man – very given to melodramatics.

"_Impedimenta_!" He cried, but Severus parried it effectively, and sent a Stunning Spell back at him, which he barely dodged, while spelling a wave a fire at them. Minerva turned it aside easily, before muttering "_Expelliarmus_," which he failed to block, and she neatly caught his wand as it flew from his hand. Albus immediately stunned him, and Severus conjured ropes to restrain him.

"Minerva," Albus turned to her, as she tucked a stray lock of hair back into her prim bun, "would you secure the house? Check for any further complications?"

"Of course," she replied, and with a muttered "_Homenum Revelio"_, began her protective enchantments as she searched the house.

Meanwhile, Albus and Severus were reviving Diriwell. The dishevelled man was still incapacitated by Severus' bindings, and lay on the ground glancing between the two with furtive eyes.

"Oh, Duncan," sighed Dumbledore. "What made you do it?" He looked into his eyes. Realising what Albus was trying to do, the captive shut his eyes tight and shook his head about, avoiding the prying gaze. Severus halted his movements with a spell, and prized open his frightened eyes. Albus delved into his memories. But he could see nothing. Every way he turned, memories evaded his search. They flitted beyond his senses, and he could not catch them. He came across sturdy barriers, and completely irrelevant memories were placed in his way to hinder him. Occlumency. Duncan Diriwell's one true talent.

"Severus!" muttered Albus. "I need your help." The sallow man too looked into Diriwell's eyes. He joined forces with Albus' mental probe. Together they pushed against Diriwell's mental shields, working together to catch fleeing memories, and throwing both their minds against his barriers. Together they prevailed, and they could read his thoughts. He had been tempted with promises of power, and a high position in the ranks of the Death Eaters once Voldemort returned. The Death Eaters obviously believed this a possibility, it seemed. Duncan had always been rather weak-willed. Neither Albus nor Severus recognised the Death Eater in the memories, and Severus had not heard of such a plot, so it was apparently a private plot hatched, it seemed, in order to gain favour with the Dark Lord once he returned.

Albus and Severus withdrew from his mind, and stood, solemnly. Albus turned to Severus.

"I'll call for the Aurors."

When he heard that, Diriwell began to scream in horror and strained against his bonds with renewed vigour.

"You won't send me there. Not Azkaban! Not the Dementors!"

"You should have thought of the consequences of your actions, Duncan," said Albus sadly.

But the bound man continued to cry out.

"You won't, you won't!" And then he began to rapidly garble an incantation. Minerva returned to the room, having finished her search, and the wand that she had taken from him began to glow, recognising the spells of its former master. Too late they realised what he was doing, and although Minerva tried to bind the magic of the wand she held, there was no stopping the magic once it had begun to take effect. With a bright flash of light, Diriwell's hasty chant ceased in an instant. His struggles stopped, and his body fell limp. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his breathing was silenced. Severus knelt to feel for a pulse. He looked up at Minerva and Albus and shook his head. Duncan Diriwell had killed himself. Out of respect for the man who had once been their friend, Minerva laid his wand on his chest and folded his limp arms over it. They conjured a coffin around the body, and sadly retuned to Hogwarts.

**AN: Thank you very much to my reviewers!**

**To 456snarky: I hope things are beginning to be explained. I'm aware that I've introduced further unexplained things… they will be resolved soon, don't worry! :D**

**Please continue to review – I would love to know peoples' thoughts on my story**


	5. Chapter 5 Growing Up

**The Circle Around the Fire**

**Chapter 5 – Growing Up**

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One

Albus staggered slightly as he popped into being. He straightened, wiped his brow, and let out his breath in a rush. He leaned against a tree, waiting for his heart rate to slow. Long-distance Apparation really took it out of you.

He stood up properly and had a look at his surroundings. Tall, snow-capped trees stretched upwards to the cloudy sky, rolling away down a wintery hill. Lots had changed since he was last here. Much of what he remembered was no longer there, or had grown so much that it was unrecognisable. He was lucky that the place was still similar enough to allow him to Apparate there. Albus turned around, and started to walk up the hill. It wasn't long before he felt very tired and weary, and an overwhelming urge to turn back and find shelter engulfed him. He found himself straying from his path, and stumbling with every step. He was confused for a second, before he realised that these were protective enchantments, designed to ward off strangers. Understanding that he wouldn't get much further by walking, Albus sat down on a rock under a tree, and conjured his Patronus. He sent it up the hill, along with a message.

It wasn't long before it was back, flying down the slope, followed by a familiar face.

"Albus!" called Taqqiq, surprised and pleased to see him.

"Good Morning, Taqqiq," replied Albus, standing and extending his hand for a handshake.

But she held back.

"Wait," she said. "Although the shape of your Patronus is reasonable proof that this is really you, I must ask a question that only the real Albus would be able to answer."

Albus was glad she was precautious, and gestured for her to continue. She thought for a moment before asking: "The loyalty of the wand you bear is split. Besides yourself, who is its other master?"

Without hesitation Albus answered: "You, of course."

Then Taqqiq smiled at him, and leaped forward to hug him. "It is you! Come, you must be tired. It's been years! I have some water boiling, would you like some tea?" She led him up the hill towards the entrance to her cave. Now the enchantments didn't bother him. "I assume you have come about the boy?"

"So you found him then," inquired Albus.

"Of course I found him," laughed Taqqiq. "Silly question!"

Albus sat on a low wooden chair in the cavern that served as Taqqiq's kitchen and dining room. It was furnished plainly, with a table and chairs set up at one end, and a burning hearth at the other, close to the tunnel that led to the entrance of the cave. Opposite Albus, off the side of the cave, another tunnel led to a room which he had only visited a couple of times – Taqqiq's magic room. An opening next to this one led to a room that Albus had never visited – Taqqiq's bedroom. The walls of this cavern were decorated with simple colourful patterns, made up of swirls and dots and lines in primary colours. Various decorations hung on the walls, such as tapestries woven from reeds, and traditional artefacts feathered with eagle's feathers. Shelves bearing clay pots and earthenware bowels were in evidence at the hearth end of the room. The rocky floor, unnaturally smooth, was made soft by an abundance of rugs woven from animal hides and wools – but never a full pelt that would have required killing an animal to obtain.

Taqqiq sat down in the chair opposite him, returning from the sleeping room.

"He's coming," she announced.

They sipped their tea in silence for a minute or two, before the patter of little feat could be heard from the passage across the room.

A little boy emerged, squinting in the brightness of the firelight. He was dressed similarly to Taqqiq, in a simple and thick cotton shirt and trousers, with moccasins and a heavy woollen cloak for warmth. Although even that wouldn't be warm enough for the freezing weather outside.

Albus hadn't seen the child in a few years, but he easily recognised his mop of untidy black hair, the piercing emerald eyes, and most distinctively, the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.

Harry crossed the room in silence, climbing into the chair next to Taqqiq.

"Say hello, Harry," said Taqqiq, gently nudging the boy. With wide eyes, Harry turned to Albus. He opened his mouth, and hissed. Albus started in shock, and Harry cringed away slightly.

Taqqiq wasn't surprised, however, and she gently chided him: "Not like that Harry. In English." But Harry remained mute, staring at Albus, who stared back.

"Did you teach him that?" he asked Taqqiq. He was a very knowledgeable wizard, and although he was unable to speak Parseltongue, he understood enough of it to recognise what Harry said as a greeting.

Taqqiq looked at him and shook her head. "Didn't you know? He speaks it naturally."

Albus immediately began to think. "It must be because of his connection to Voldemort," he whispered to Taqqiq. She just shrugged and replied:

"Whatever the reason, it's the only language he'll speak. I think it's because of the people you left him with. They were unkind to him, so the first kind words he can remember were spoken in Parseltongue." She pointed over to the corner of the room, were Harry had wandered off to. He sat on the rug, quietly chatting away incomprehensibly to a little snake. "That's Anissu. I found them freezing to death together."

Albus looked very morose and regretful. "I didn't know where else to put him. The magic invoked by Harry's blood ties to Petunia Dursley and Dudley Dursley should have been enough to protect him."

"But not from the Dursley's themselves it seems." Taqqiq raised an eyebrow. "No matter. He can live with me now."

Albus looked like he was about to say something, but Taqqiq interrupted him. "You remember my … responsibility, do you not?" Albus nodded and Taqqiq continued. "Its magic will be more than enough to protect young Harry. Don't you worry. And there's me – I'm a force to be reckoned with."

Albus laughed, but was really reflecting on the truth of her words. "And besides, the Elders have instructed me to take him as my apprentice. He may well be destined to protect your islands."

"I see," said Albus sagely. "Well, it would give me some peace of mind if you permitted me to lay some enchantments of my own. And also, will he be able to attend Hogwarts?"

Taqqiq harrumphed and pursed her lips and said "We'll see". Even if he was implying that she wasn't able to look after her own home and that her teaching was inadequate.

That evening, after much discussion and reminiscing with Taqqiq, and after ascertaining that (apart from his refusal to speak English) Harry was in good health, Albus left her cave. Drawing his wand, he began to mutter under his breath. He chanted incessantly, moving his wand in various intricate patterns, casting spells of protection and concealment. He also placed a number of charms that would alert him if either Harry or Taqqiq were in danger.

xxx

However, as it turned out, Albus' enchantments were unnecessary.

Harry grew up like a perfectly normal child, if you discounted the fact that he lived in a cave in the middle of the Canadian wilderness, and that he spoke mostly in the snake language until he was almost nine years old. He began to speak fluently in English again after Taqqiq began taking him with her to various wizarding enclaves across the country, disguised of course, in order for him to see more of the world. He called Taqqiq Grandmother, a term of respect in her culture, but most people who heard it assumed he was her grandson.

Harry became very familiar with the forest surrounding the cave. He would spend endless hours exploring and playing with Anissu (under the watchful, if sometimes astrally projected, eye of Taqqiq). He gradually came to know instinctively the presence of an animal, and his senses became very finely tuned. He knew the animal-tracks of the forest, and could find his direction from the stars at night and the sun in the day. He loved to hike all the way to the nearest Muggle town, where he would dress up as one of them and have good fun spying on them and secretly ogling at all their quirks. He grew up completely aware of his parentage, his history concerning Voldemort and his wizarding heritage.

Although he was very familiar with all this, there was one thing with which he wasn't familiar. A tunnel led off Taqqiq's magic room, and he was not allowed to go through it. A large slab of stone rested in front of it, but even if he was able to lift it he would be prevented by Taqqiq's enchantments. She wouldn't let him through herself, nor would she tell him what was within. She said she would tell him when he was older. Naturally, Harry found this very annoying.

When he had lived with Taqqiq for half a year, when he turned six, she began to teach him her magic. She taught him various herbal remedies for treating bruises and cuts, and he used this knowledge often, as he did the age-old little boy thing of falling over all the time. He did, however, learn greater healing magics, learning how to knit bones together with a touch of a finger, and to heal wounds with a sprinkling of herbs. He learned to project his vision and his hearing with the help of the ritual fire, but had trouble manifesting an astral form. Taqqiq wasn't worried – it had taken her ten years to learn this technique.

When Harry began to talk properly in English again she started to teach him other animal languages. Anissu was a bit sulky with him when he twittered at birds and had long conversations with the herds of elk that roamed the woods, but he soon came round.

Each time Harry mastered an animal language, Taqqiq would teach him how to assume the form of that animal. Of course the first she taught him was the snake. He picked this magic very easily, and soon joined Anissu to play in snake form. He and Taqqiq were soon both flying as eagles through the eaves of the forest, and running with the wolf packs. Harry took to shapeshifting so well that he was soon teaching himself. He seemed to have an almost inherited aptitude for it.

The most advanced magic that Taqqiq decided to teach him before he went to Hogwarts was the manipulation of the natural elements. Harry took very well to controlling water. It wasn't long before he could cause the water to move into intricate patterns, and to flow at his command. He could even draw liquid water from the moisture in the air. He could also pulls bursts of water from rivers and streams, and had endless fun splashing Anissu and his Grandmother with this skill. He also found it easy to manipulate the currents of air, soon learning to draw darts of wind from a still atmosphere, but found it more difficult to influence the earth. He worked incessantly, pushing himself to master it. Eventually he did – he touched his index finger to the ground and a daisy had sprung up. He couldn't yet move the ground itself, and rocks resisted his influence, but he soon was able to move and manipulate plants. One aspect of elemental manipulation that Taqqiq did not yet teach him was the ability to summon and control energy in the forms of fire and lightning. She warned him not to experiment until he was ready for her to teach him, as the results could be fatal if performed incorrectly.

When Harry was almost ten years old, he witnessed Taqqiq in battle for the first time. A young man, recently graduated from magic school, had begun to experiment with darker magics – including the sacrifice of young animals in order to increase his power. In accordance with her duty as Mamanti, Taqqiq went to put a stop to this. She fought with him, and defeated him without much difficulty. Then, using a magic she called the Shamanlight, she bound the young man's magic for a year and a day. He was unable to perform magic for this period of time, as a warning, and she would return to check on him after that time. Later, when Harry asked about the Shamanlight, Taqqiq explained that many things could be achieved with its use. But he would have to wait until he was older for her to teach him it. Naturally, Harry found this infuriating.

At the beginning of the summer in which Harry was to turn eleven, an owl winged its way into the entrance of Taqqiq's cave. Harry heard it hooting, and went out to see. He took the letter from the owl, thanking it.

"Thank you, kind sir," he said.

"How polite!" answered the owl. "And in my own tongue too."

"Would you like a rest and something to eat? You must have had a long journey."

"That would be very welcome, thank you."

While the owl nibbled away at a snack, Taqqiq and Harry read the letter. It was from Hogwarts, inviting him to attend.

**AN: I know there are lots of this type of AU in which Dumbledore is manipulative and tries to force Harry to go to Hogwarts, but I didn't want this story to fall into that category. I'm not too keen on writing Manipulative!Dumbledore and I don't like writing characters too OOC (although I have no qualms about reading them!). I won't be updating for a couple of weeks as I'm going on holiday with my family, although I do hope to get another chapter up before the end of the week.**

**Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6 Riots of Sound and Colour

**The Circle Around the Fire**

**Chapter 6 – Riots of Sound and Colour**

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One

Harry Potter was sitting on an orange stripy seat in a metal tube that was hurtling along at quite a pace, rattling like crazy, deep under the ground. In other words, the London Underground. Harry had never ridden the tube before, and so it was just as much of a mystery to him as it was to Hagrid, the very large man who had been sent from Hogwarts to take him shopping for school supplies at some place called Diagon Alley. Hagrid, who Harry thought must be half giant, looked completely ridiculous on the tube. Then again, thought Harry, so must he, with his hastily bought Muggle clothing of jeans and a tee-shirt that bore a cartoon picture of a bright red London bus that seemed to have somehow developed a face and arms, and was giving a massive grin and thumbs up. It was the best he could have done under the circumstances. The other option had been '_Londoners are sexy'_ which his Grandmother refused to let him buy. Harry wished she could have come with him to buy his supplies, but she was only allowed to leave her area of responsibility unprotected for short periods of time, so she only had time to transport him there via a magical technique she called Worldwalking, and then fill out various forms from the British Ministry of Magic about Harry's education in Britain. She then left him in Hagrid's care, and returned to Canada. Although not before placing a surreptitious protection enchantment upon Harry.

They soon reached their destination – a small, run down pub which passers-by seemed to ignore completely. It was called The Leaky Cauldron, and Harry could sense it was more than what it seemed. When they entered, Hagrid was spotted immediately, on account of his size. And after they'd spotted Hagrid, they spotted Harry. And then they fell silent. Harry was very uncomfortable with them all staring at him, and signalled to Hagrid to lead on. He tried, but they were soon surrounded by a press of people, all talking at once, shouting his name, clamouring for attention, trying to shake his hand. They kept trying to touch him, as if for luck, and Harry hated it. He shuddered each time someone pawed him, and he could feel his magic bubbling angrily inside him. If they didn't stop he knew he was going to do something he would regret. Fortunately, it didn't come to that, as Hagrid stepped in and pushed the crowd aside as he waded through to a door on the other side. No one followed them through, and Harry found himself in tiny backyard, with dustbins stacked in a corner against the wall. But again, he knew it was not what it seemed, as he could almost sense the magic beyond the wall, almost like a buzzing.

Hagrid pulled a flowery pink umbrella from the recesses of his coat, and tapped a few bricks on the wall in quick succession. The bricks of the wall rolled to the side, revealing a view Harry would never forget. There were hundreds of people, all colourfully and eccentrically dressed, all milling around. Shops lined both sides of the busy street, and as they processed up it, Harry saw that they were selling things the like of which he had never seen before – not even when his Grandmother had taken him to Canadian wizarding communities. Before long, a great marble building loomed up before them. Golden lettering above massive wooden doors announced the building to be Gringotts Wizard Bank.

xxx

Harry got unsteadily out of the cart, followed by Hagrid, who looked positively green. The goblin who had led them down to the vaults, with whom Harry had had a very informative discussion about goblin culture, led them across to a heavy metal door. He inserted Harry's tiny golden key into a keyhole on the door, which proceeded to swing slowly inwards. Harry stepped through into his family vault for the first time, and as his eyes adjusted to the light, he gasped loudly. For within lay piles and piles of gold and silver. Mounds of coins were heaped right up to the not-low ceiling. Each wall was lined with a bookcase, and each contained hundreds of weighty-looking tomes. After gathering some coins into a wallet in his bag, Harry had a scour of the book selves.

A couple caught his eye. Firstly, _Summa Magicae, _a book on complicated magical theory that seemed pretty much medieval, looked very interesting. Another, _The Craft of_ _Natural Magic, _looked fascinating – he was sure as well that his Grandmother would be interested in that one. A took a couple more on wandlore, which he knew very little about.

They left Gringotts Bank, Harry's bag many times heavier than when they came in. They went through Harry's list of school supplies, and the next few hours, aside from all being new and intriguing, passed without a hitch. There was one incident in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, in which a snobby blond boy gave him a lecture about Hogwarts Houses which soon deteriorated into a diatribe about blood superiority, at which point Harry deliberately ignored him. They visited Eeylops Owl Emporium, where Harry was immediately drawn to a large snowy owl perched on a stand near the back of the shop.

"I wouldn't go for that one, if I were you," said the shop-keeper in a thick Yorkshire accent. "She doesn't let anyone near her."

Harry reached out to the bird, who was regarding him curiously. Under his breath, so that Hagrid and the shop-keeper, who had struck up a conversation about nifflers, wouldn't hear, Harry hooted softly at the owl.

"Hello," he said. "My name's Harry. What's yours?"

The owl screeched in surprise and almost fell of her perch. The other two humans glanced over in alarm, but turned away when they saw nothing was the matter.

The owl soon righted herself, and regained her dignity. Owls are very dignified creatures.

"There are some who call me Hedwig," she replied. Of course, her name pronounced in English is just a paltry attempt by humans to mimic the sounds of the owl language, although Harry knew better than that. Harry tried to have a conversation with her, which progressed quite well once he got past her haughtiness, until they were interrupted by Hagrid.

"So Harry," he clapped a massive hand onto Harry's shoulder. "Decided which one you want?"

"Yes, Hagrid," replied Harry. "I'll get this one." He indicated Hedwig.

"You sure, Harry?"

"Yes, quite sure." He went to get money from his bag, but Hagrid stopped him.

"Let me, Harry, as a late birthday present."

"Thank you," said Harry with genuine gratitude. The only person he had ever received birthday presents from before was Taqqiq.

Hedwig declined to get inside a cage, so she perched on Harry's shoulder while the proprietor shrunk the cage and Harry put it into his bag. Collecting his other purchases, they left the shop.

Their last stop was a scruffy, narrow shop bearing the name: Ollivanders, makers of fine wands since 382 BC. A light tinkling sounded as Harry and Hagrid entered the shop. It seemed deserted, until a thin old man appeared from around the corner of one of the many shelves, all of which bore countless long, narrow boxes.

"Ah, Mister Potter. I wondered when I would be seeing you."

Harry didn't reply, a little taken aback. Mr Ollivander, for of course it was he, turned and greeted Hagrid, before focussing his unnerving attention back on Harry.

He began to talk about the wands of Harry's parents, while measuring Harry's height, his arms, his wrists, and then left to search the selves. The tape measure continued measuring even without Mr Ollivander to guide it. When he returned, laden with boxes, the measure crumpled to the floor. Mr Ollivander removed a wand from the first box, and gave it to Harry, indicating for him to give it a wave. The rest of the pile scattered, flying in all directions.

"Not to worry, not to worry!" exclaimed Mr Ollivander. He drew his own wand and was about to reassemble the boxes, when he stopped abruptly. He pocketed his wand, and approached the ex-pile of wands. They had been repelled evenly, forming rough concentric circles around a central point, at which lay a single box. It wasn't long and narrow like the others, but a small square. Mr Ollivander bent to pick it up, and offered it to Harry. Harry took it, and opened it. Nestled inside was a small, perfectly circular, grey pebble of about two inches in diameter. Carved onto its upper surface, in a deep consistent groove, was a spiral. Harry took it out of the box, and the moment his fingers brushed the rock, he felt a tingle.

"Trace the rune, Harry," instructed Ollivander. His eyes were wide and his face was very serious.

Harry did has he was told, following the pattern of the spiral with his index finger. As he did so, it began to glow, emitting a brilliant white radiance. When he had finished the spiral, the glowing increased, and Harry could hear a single clear note ringing through the stillness of the shop.

"Curious," whispered Mr Ollivander once the note and light had faded. "I haven't had someone determined by rune-stone for over fifty years now."

""I'm sorry…?" questioned Harry.

"I'm going to have to make you a wand specially. If you return the stone to me, then I should be able to divine what components to use." He held his hand out for the stone, which Harry returned. "It should be finished within the week, at which point I shall send it to you by owl. It will cost eight galleons."

Harry thanked him, handed over the money, and with Hagrid in tow, left the shop.

xxx

Harry had been back at home with his Grandmother for week before he received his new wand. In the meantime, he had shown his Grandmother all his purchases for school, including his textbooks, which she looked over approvingly; his potions supplies, which she avidly analysed; and his school uniform, which she snorted at. He introduced her to Hedwig, and the two liked each other immediately, recognising the other as a kindred spirit.

The delivery owl didn't stop for a rest – she needed to get back to the Canadian National Owl Service HQ to perform another delivery. Harry thanked her as she flew off, and then brought the package inside. He unfolded the brown paper wrapping, revealing a letter addressed to him, and a wand box. He opened the letter first.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_I hope this finds you in good health. I must say, the making of your wand has been the highlight of my week. Absolutely fascinating! Here are the details about its component parts. The wand wood is fashioned from a mixture of oak and willow. The darker grain is of oak, and the lighter willow. The core is a mixture. Its basis is a single tail feather of a phoenix (which came, in fact, from the phoenix that is companion to Albus Dumbledore). Entwined about this feather are two further ingredients. The first is a flight feather from a magical bird found in the Orient known as the Feng-Huang. The second is the scales of a basilisk. This is curious to me, as those two creatures are traditional enemies. No matter. Both of these ingredients would have been incredibly difficult to obtain, had I not happened to have some stored away. Fate seems to smile on you, Mr Potter._

_I think we can expect great things from you._

_Yours Faithfully, Mr Ollivander_

Harry put the letter aside with a raised eyebrow, and opened the box that came with it. Inside lay a beautiful wand. Harry saw what Mr Ollivander had meant by the two different woods – light wood and dark spiralled together from the tip to the base of the wand, seamlessly swirling around each other. Taqqiq too admired its beauty, even though she hadn't had much time for wands for nigh on fifty years. Harry lifted the wand from the box. He suddenly felt pleasantly warm, and a slight breeze blew through the cave. A gentle glow appeared around it, and a single note sounded. Underneath the wand in the box lay the original rune-stone. Taqqiq picked it up and examined it.

"I'd advise you to keep this safe, Harry," she cautioned. "I believe it's more than it seems."

Harry took the rune-stone from her, and traced the rune as he had done in Ollivander's shop. Again it emitted a bright radiance, and again it sang with a pure note, but this time, a second note sounded, coming from the wand Harry held in his other hand. The two created a beautiful chord, which faded all too quickly. Harry stood staring at the two for at least a minute, before shaking himself awake.

"Of course, Grandmother." Taqqiq left the room to attend to dinner, and Hedwig approached to inspect the new development. She gave the wand a light nudge with her claw. When nothing happened, she tossed her head haughtily.

"I don't have much time for wands," she said disdainfully.

**AN: I know there were a few clichés in this chapter, but hopefully they won't last too long, and they are clichés I like, so I hope they're not too boring for you.**

**Thanks to all my reviewers! Keep it coming – it's all very encouraging. Even if you have criticism, don't hesitate to inform me, as I would love to improve. Just please frame it constructively, so I can work from it.**


	7. Chapter 7 Right at Home

**The Circle Around the Fire**

**Chapter 7 – Right at Home**

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One

King's Cross station was packed with bustling, noisy people. Harry carefully navigated his trolley through the crowds, painfully aware how odd he looked with the archaic Hogwarts crest blaring out on the front of his trunk. At least he had been able to get Hedwig to fly there and meet him – otherwise he would have looked absolutely ridiculous.

He was a little unsure about how to get to 'Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters', as was Taqqiq, who was walking alongside him. She kept muttering under her breath things like: "Complete rubbish, how are we supposed to know? Is this how Albus treats all his students? When I get to show him a piece of my mind, oh! He'll be sorry…." His Grandmother didn't actually mean any of this, but she had quite a temper when it came being left in the dark. Of course, she would be able to find any secret entrances to any secret platforms with perfect ease, by using her Sight. In fact, there were a number that she had already Seen. Platform Not-Quite-Number-Seven-But-Just-Slightly-Below-It was one of the highlights so far, ostensibly playing host to an express service to the International Floo Centre.

When they did find Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, they were confronted with a queue of people, who were all lined up to … run at the wall. Harry had to blink and look again each time someone disappeared through that wall, and when it was his turn, he could barely make himself move.

"Come on Harry," chided Taqqiq. She grabbed his elbow and manoeuvred him towards the wall. Completely at ease, she gracefully sauntered through the barrier, and Harry, nervous and sweating, carefully followed.

He immediately knew that he needn't have worried. He emerged perfectly unscathed on the other side, and was confronted by a scene to rival Diagon Alley. The platform was filled with students, some in school robes, and parents, who were variously crying, embracing their offspring tightly, demanding whether they had everything, commanding them to write a lot, or in the case of one violently red-headed family, frantically rubbing dirt off their noses. But by far the most overwhelming sight of all was the train. A great scarlet engine stood billowing purple smoke onto the platform. The carriages were ornate and traditional, and Harry could feel the magic, most likely protective enchantments, seeping from it.

Taqqiq glanced at the large clock that hung over the barrier. "Almost time, Harry," she said, and bundled him towards the door of the nearest carriage.

"Now, you be a good boy," she said sternly, while straightening a crease in his t-shirt. "Don't get yourself into trouble, now. And don't forget to give this to Professor Dumbledore." She handed him a sealed envelope, which he put carefully in his shoulder bag.

"Yes, Grandmother." Harry reached forward and gave her a tight hug. "I'm going to miss you."

Taqqiq remained unrelenting for a moment, before she gave in and hugged him back.

"I'll miss you too, Harry."

xxx

Harry sat in an empty compartment, having managed to finally find one. When the train had started to move, and he could no longer see his Grandmother waving from the platform, he pulled out his copy of _Summa Magicae_ from his shoulder bag, and settled to had only read a few paragraphs on the use of incantations in spellcraft when he was interrupted by a knocking on the frame of the compartment door. A bushy-haired girl stood there, looking a little nervous.

"Hello," she said. "Do you mind company? This is the only half-empty carriage."

"Of course not, come in," replied Harry, gesturing for her to take a seat. The girl looked relieved, and settled herself in the seat opposite Harry. She cleared her throat.

"So… hi! I'm Hermione Granger." She offered her hand to be shaken, and Harry shook it.

"I'm Harry Potter. It's lovely to meet you, Hermione."

"Not…_the_ Harry…" but she didn't finish her predictable question because she was interrupted by the entrance into the compartment of three boys. The first was small, pointy-faced, and blond. With a flash of recognition, Harry remembered him as the stupid blood-purist from the robe shop. He narrowed his eyes.

"So _you're_ Harry Potter!" Blondy approached. "You might have told me at Madam Malkin's. I would have known to introduce myself properly. I am Draco Malfoy." He looked as if he expected them to recognise the name. They didn't. When they didn't reply, he shook himself and continued. "Shaking hands with a Mudblood, Harry Potter! If I were you, I wouldn't go making friends with the wrong sort of people on the first day of school. Allow me to be of assistance in that department." He held out his hand, while his two companions, whom Harry had just noticed to be abnormally huge, swaggered up to Hermione, and made as if to grab her. Harry stood up.

"Leave her alone." He said firmly. Malfoy, who recognised his offer being scorned, sniggered.

"Protecting Muggle-borns from Purebloods, Potter! You don't have the right!" He sneered condescendingly.

"On the contrary," continued Harry, his voice level, but resounding with greater depth than it had before. "It is both my right and my duty to protect them from the likes of you. Now, leave her alone." The three boys blanched at the sound of his voice, but didn't leave the compartment.

He flicked his wrist, and a wave of compressed air knocked them back, out through the door to the compartment. Without so much as a fearful glance, they turned tail and fled.

Harry sat down heavily.

"That was … just…" Hermione stammered. "Thank you so much. What happened there?"

But Harry was distracted. "I don't know. Accidental magic, I suppose," he replied. And that was sort of the truth. While he knew perfectly well how he had removed them from the compartment with the blast of air, he had never spoken in a voice like that before. He'd have to write to his Grandmother.

Hermione seemed to know that he didn't want to be questioned on the matter, so they sat in silence for the next few minutes. Harry returned to _Summa Magicae_, and Hermione pulled out a book from their course book list.

"So, have you done much magic yet?" asked Hermione, looking up from her textbook. Harry, knowing that it may be unwise to reveal his already considerable magical prowess, neatly sidestepped the question, and replied, "I haven't had much chance to experiment with my wand yet." Hermione nodded.

"I've only tried a few simple spells, which all seem quite easy." She pulled her wand from her pocket, gave it a little twist, and said "_Fumos._" A lick of smoke curled from the tip of her wand, and billowed across the compartment before dissipating by the door. "I do wonder what causes the magic to work, though." Hermione seemed to lose herself in her musings.

"Yes! I thought that too. I can't seem to work out the connection between the incantation and the wand movements, and the effect coming about. That's what I'm reading about in this book." He held up _Summa Magicae_.

"Oh my…that book must be really old," said Hermione with wide eyes.

"Yeah, I think it is. You want to have a look with me?"

"Really?" squeaked Hermione.

"Course," answered Harry. He motioned for her to take the seat next to him.

She bounded across the compartment and sat next to Harry to read. They spent the next half an hour avidly discussing the theory of magic, before moving onto other topics. They were half way through a heated, but friendly, argument about Plato's Theory of the World of the Forms, when they were interrupted again. Two boisterous looking boys bounded into the compartment, and Harry and Hermione looked up in surprise.

"Sorry mates," announced the first, a redhead whose nose had undergone a desperate cleaning by his mother on the platform.

"Yeah, sorry for interrupting," said the second, a brown haired boy who was a bit more subdued. "We're looking for a toad. Have you seen one?"

"Sorry, no," answered Hermione.

"Thanks anyway," said redhead, but before they turned to leave, Harry stood up.

"Wait here," he said. "I'll find your toad."

Without another word, he swept out of the compartment, leaving the occupants baffled.

Although Harry would have needed an Ikuma, a ritual fire, to Search any great distance, the small confines of the train would be no trouble to See. He opened his Sight while walking down the corridor away from the compartment. It wasn't long before he located the toad, not too far away, hiding behind a trunk someone had left in the corridor. Harry approached quietly, and slowly, so as not to alarm him, looked around the side of the trunk.

The toad, with bulging eyes, started to turn around to crawl to safety, but Harry called to him in his own language.

"Hello there. Don't worry. I won't hurt you." The toad didn't reply, but stopped trying to flee. Carefully, Harry picked him up and gently carried him back to his compartment.

Inside, Redhead had begun a conversation with Hermione, and Redhead's Friend was looking out of the window. Hermione looked up when Harry entered.

"Hi Harry," she called. Redhead's Friend turned around and leaped across the compartment, practically shouting "Trevor!" Harry handed him the toad.

"Thanks. Where did you find him?"

"I remembered seeing him near the buffet car on my way here," lied Harry smoothly. He sat down in the seat he had just vacated.

"Harry, these are Ron Weasley," Hermione gestured to Redhead, "and Neville Longbottom." Harry nodded to each in turn. "They're in our year," continued Hermione.

"Nice to meet you. I see you've already met my good friend Hermione Granger," said Harry. Hermione beamed.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron ogled at Harry, who nodded. Hermione had obviously introduced him while he was out.

"Do you have the s…sc…scar?" stammered Neville. Harry rolled his eyes and lifted back his fringe, baring the famous lightning bolt scar.

"Wicked!" murmured Ron.

"That's odd," said Hermione, although she was still smiling. "All the books I've read describe it as if it were still new – always red and bleeding."

"Well it was like that until I was amount five, apparently," answered Harry. "But since then it's begun to fade." He shrugged to tell them he didn't know why.

"Well, we'll see you around, then," said Ron. He and Neville left the compartment, but then he stuck his head back round the door. "You better get changed into your robes now. My brother Percy says we'll be arriving soon."

Harry turned to Hermione. "Do you want to get changed in here, while I wait outside?"

"OK, Harry," grinned Hermione. She impulsively leaned forward and gave him a hug. Harry smiled at her and left the compartment.

xxx

Hermione sat in a little boat with Harry, Ron and Neville. The splendour of the castle lay shining ahead of them, reflected in the lake. Hermione mused. She was so happy to have found a friend, maybe even three, on her first day at school. She hadn't had many friends at muggle primary school. He had even introduced her as his 'good friend'. She grinned. But he was a bit mysterious. He had done that thing to that bully, Malfoy, which she couldn't explain. He had easily found the toad – she was sure he had lied about seeing it earlier, and he had known the huge man, Hagrid, who had led them to the boats.

They passed under a mossy archway and, after disembarking, were led up a flight of stone stairs, and met by a tall, stern-looking, black-haired witch. She, after informing them all about the house-system, and introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, led them through a tall pair of doors which opened of their own accord. The crowd of first-years gasped at their first sight of the Great Hall. Multitudes of burning candles floated over the long, crowded tables. The vaulted ceiling glimmered with clouds and stars. Hermione informed Harry that it was bewitched. As if that wasn't already obvious. The crowd of first years was herded towards the high table, and a small stool on which sat a battered old hat.

"When I call your name," announced McGonagall, "you will come forward. I will put the Sorting Hat upon your head, and you will be sorted."

Harry could hear Ron explaining the different Houses to Hermione, who had apparently not got to that bit yet in _Hogwarts: A History_.

"So, Gryffindor's like the brave one, right, Ravenclaw's the clever one, they say Slytherin's the cunning one but everyone knows it's evil, and Hufflepuff is hardworking, or something."

It wasn't long before Hermione's name was called. Nervously she ascended the podium, where she sat on the stool and the Hat was placed on her head.

Almost instantaneously, a rip in its brim opened wide, and it screamed "RAVENCLAW!" Hermione lifted the Hat from her head and hopped off the podium, obviously chuffed to have been placed in the clever house. Neville was soon called for sorting, and was placed with a shout of "GRYFFINDOR!"

McGonagall continued to call out names, and after Parvati Patil was sorted into Gryffindor, she came to Harry.

Harry climbed onto the podium to whispers off: "_Did she say Potter? Not _the _Harry Potter!_" The walk to the stool seemed miles long, and Harry seated himself while the school still whispered. Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head, and it flopped down over his eyes, obscuring its vision.

"_Ah!_" said a small voice in Harry's ear. "_What a mind!_"

"Pardon," asked Harry mentally, "what do you mean?"

"_I'm sorry,_" answered the Hat. "_It's just that it's such a long time since one with the power to wield the Old Magic placed me on their head._"

Harry didn't know what to reply to that. That Hat continued. "_But where to put you… We shouldn't put you in Hufflepuff, oh no, no, no. You would be stifled there. Nor should I put you in Gryffindor. That doesn't seem your type at all – you are one to think before acting. You might do well in Slytherin, I wonder. However, your Old magic ability would do to be developed in intelligent Ravenclaw. You are definitely able enough – more than able enough. Yes, that's what I shall do. RAVENCLAW!_" This last was broadcast to the entire hall. The Ravenclaw students were all on their feet, clapping and cheering for him. The rest of the school looked rather morose.

Harry hurried to the table, wanting to be out of the spotlight, and took a seat next to Hermione.

When the Sorting had finished, including placing Ron Weasley in Gryffindor, Harry was introduced to others at the table. To his left, the other side to Hermione, was Penelope Clearwater, a fifth year and a prefect. Across from him were Michael Corner and Terry Boot, who were both first years and his roommates.

The room fell silent when Dumbledore stood.

"Welcome," he said, "to another year at Hogwarts." He beamed at the students. "I thoroughly hope you will be putting it to good use." A couple of sniggers could be heard from the Gryffindor table. "I have been asked to remind by our caretaker, Mr Filch, that as usual the forest is forbidden to _all_ students. And new this year, the third floor corridor on the right hand side is barred from all those who do not wish to die a most painful death. Thank you." And with that he sat down. A general muttering broke out across the Hall. But then the food appeared. Literally faded into existence onto the platters lined up along the tables. Everywhere people were tucking in, but Harry could only ogle at the sheer amount of food in evidence.

"Chicken wing, Harry?" Harry looked up to see Michael Corner offering him a wing. He blanched at the sight of the meat, and tried not to gag at the smell that was wafting from it to him.

"Err… no thanks. Vegetarian." He let out a sigh of relief as the wing was taken away from him.

"Sorry, a what?" Michael looked confused. As did Terry Boot.

"A vegetarian. I don't eat meat." Michael and Terry looked at each other in surprise.

Hermione had overheard their conversation. "Don't you know what a vegetarian is?" The two boys shook their heads.

"There aren't many wizards who are vegetarians. It's quite rare, actually," interrupted Penelope Clearwater. "I'm muggle-born, so I'm familiar with the concept. Most wizards who are vegetarians are muggle-borns as well, or first generation half-bloods."

Harry eventually found himself something to eat, and then, after desert and the disappearance of the food, Penelope led all the first years out of the Great Hall. She led them into the Entrance Hall, and up the great sprawling staircase, eventually branching off down a corridor, which was lit by flickering firelight, followed by another staircase, which curved back on itself numerous times. They followed a broad stone corridor, with wide windows offering a spectacular vista of mountains and forest, but they soon turned left, then right, and the view was lost. Harry wondered if he'd ever find the route again. Finally they stopped, after climbing a spiral staircase, outside a simple-looking wooden door, with no keyhole or handle. There was simply a bronze door-knocker shaped like an eagle's head. Penelope reached forwards, and knocked three times. Harry wasn't the only one who jumped when the door-knocker shook itself and opened its beak.

"If a Whomping Willow uproots itself, is it culpable in its own death?"

Penelope turned to the assembled first years, and explained that the answer to a riddle was required to gain entry to Ravenclaw Tower. She turned back to the knocker and answered:

"Only if the Willow decides to press charges, which it can't, because it's dead, so no."

"Well reasoned," replied the door-knocker, and the door swung open.

Penelope led the first years into the common room, which was light and airy, with windows almost all the way around, offering 360 degree views of the surrounding mountains. The ceiling was high and domed, coloured dark blue, with stars, planets, and countless celestial bodies intricately painted in silver and gold, like a giant astronomical map. Every spare section of wall was covered in bookshelves, and there were smaller bookcases scattered amongst the comfy looking chairs around the common room. A roaring fire blazed in a fireplace to the left. The floor was of dark wood, and generously covered in deep blue rugs. Across the other side of the room were two archways, leading to two separate staircases. In between them stood a statue of a tall, beautiful woman wearing a tiara. Penelope once again spoke to them.

"Girls dormitories are up the staircase to the left, and boys to the right. Your belongings will have already been brought up. Feel free to do what you like, within reason, until lights-out. If you have any questions please find me. Oh, and be sure to be up early tomorrow morning, as Professor Flitwick, our Head of House, is likely to want to speak to you all."

The crowd of first years dispersed. Harry went up to his dormitory. Five four-poster beds stood in a circle about a central, circular bookcase. The stone walls were replete with blue banners bearing the bronze eagle of Ravenclaw, and the bed covers and drapes were also blue. It was quite an impressive room. Harry's trunk stood at the foot of the nearest bed, and his shoulder bag was lying on the bed itself. And Harry was pleased to see Hedwig perched on one of the bed posts.

"Hello there, Hedwig!" he called to her.

"Good evening, Harry," she replied. "I trust you had a pleasant trip?" She hopped onto Harry's shoulder.

"I did, and you?" She bobbed her head in an imitation of a nod.

He pulled a book from his bag, and returned to the common room to find Hermione. He settled himself on a sofa by the fire, and began to read. Hermione was soon back from investigating her dormitory, and sat by him. He introduced her to Hedwig, who then promptly ignored them both and took to nosily watching the occupants of the rest of the room. Harry and Hermione were soon engaged in a heated discussion about the degree to which the door handle was and could be sentient, and how it was possible for magic to bestow sentience upon an inanimate object. All in all, they were both well placed in Ravenclaw.

**AN: Right, I was supposed to be going on holiday, but the snow here in England has grounded pretty much all planes. *mutters curses under breath*. So I decided to make the most of it and get a new chapter up.**

**Thanks to all my reviewers. Please keep reviewing, it's literary sustenance! I'd like to offer particular thanks to Kelsei, who has diligently offered encouragement for each chapter. Thanks!**

**If anyone has any comment or criticism, please let me know.**


	8. Chapter 8 Pretences and Concealments

**The Circle Around the Fire**

**Chapter 8 – Pretences and Concealments**

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One

Harry was woken by a tickling on his cheek. Annoyed, he brushed it away. His hand connected with something solid, and he heard a muffled hiss of annoyance. He opened his eyes, and was immediately confronted with the narrowed eyes of a snake.

"Anissu!" The little snake coiled itself around Harry's neck as he sat up. "I thought you were staying with Grandmother."

"As if I would stay behind and let you have all the fun," Anissu hissed.

Harry smiled wryly. "Well, you mustn't be seen."

If Anissu had shoulders to shrug, he would have shrugged them. "As if anyone could catch me!" Harry rolled his eyes. He lifted Anissu off of his shoulders and laid him down on the bed as he stood up. Hedwig, who was perched on the bed post, had been woken by the commotion. She warily blinked a greeting to Anissu. The two usually got along, but Anissu wasn't at all above playing tricks on her from time to time.

"Tell him I say 'hello'," said Hedwig. Harry relayed this, and Anissu replied in like, which Harry duly translated.

"Are you going to the Owlery today?" asked Harry.

""I shall," answered Hedwig. She ruffled her feathers, and tucked her head under her wing to go back to sleep. Hedwig wasn't an early bird.

Harry got dressed quietly, wary of waking up his dorm-mates, who were all still asleep. He tucked Anissu into the sleeve of his robe, where he coiled around his forearm. He left the dormitory and went downstairs to the common room. It was empty, as it was still quite early. Harry fingered the letter in his breast pocket, the one he needed to deliver to Dumbledore. He decided to do so later today. His Grandmother had seemed to be quite urgent about it.

While he was waiting for the rest of his year, he decided to explore the numerous bookshelves dotted in and around the common room. He was just leafing through _Magical Achievements of the Sixteen-Hundreds_ when Hermione came downstairs accompanied by a couple of other first year girls.

"Morning, Harry," called Hermione. "These are Morag MacDougal and Padma Patil." Harry shook their hands in turn and noted their wide eyed glances to his scar. But they were in Ravenclaw for a reason, and wisely refrained from mentioning it. They sat and discussed various things, such as family and expectations for the day, while waiting for the rest of the year to arrive. They did so, slowly and bleary-eyed, especially in the case of Terry Boot, who clearly was not a morning person.

A minute or two after their whole year was assembled, they heard the door-knocker asking a question, and upon receiving an answer it swung open. A small man walked in – so small that Harry supposed he must have goblin ancestry. He had curly white hair, and wore a dark blue robe.

"Good Morning, first years," he announced to the gathered students. "I am Professor Flitwick. Welcome to Ravenclaw House. While you are here, as Professor McGonagall undoubtedly told you, your House is like your family. As such, we in Ravenclaw do not like to see our family suffer any misfortune. Both I and your House prefects are always available for you to talk to. Furthermore, if any of you find yourself struggling with any aspect of your studies, peer tutors from the higher years are easily arranged. Now, I do hope you enjoy your first day. Miss Brocklehurst?" He turned to a surprised first year girl who stood near-by. "If you wouldn't mind helping be hand out these timetables… Thank you."

As Harry entered the Great Hall with Hermione at his side, he saw a teacher sitting on the far right of the high table who he hadn't seen before. He was quite small, and a bit nervous looking, but his most obvious feature was the large purple turban he wore on his head. But that was not why Harry's eye had been drawn to him. No, that wasn't it. It was the feeling that emanated from that turban. It felt very dark to Harry, and somehow _wrong_. He turned to Hermione.

"Who do you suppose that is?"

"I think that's Professor Quirrell. Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, which we have tomorrow. He supposedly fought vampires in Albania last year. Ron told me his turban is a charm to ward off those vampires, as they apparently scared him half to death." Her tone of voice indicated her low opinion of this gossip. Harry shook the feeling of _wrongness_ off and continued into the Hall.

Harry sat at the table after breakfast and looked at his timetable for the first time. His first lesson was Charms, which was taught by Professor Flitwick. They shared this lesson with the Gryffindors.

And this was where he found himself, half an hour later, waving his wand at a feather, repeating an incantation, to no effect.

Hermione was sitting next to him, and she had, five minutes ago, successfully caused her feather to float gracefully to the ceiling, where it flew still, executing complex figures of eight. Ron sat on the other side of Hermione, and his was performing little spasmodic jumps. A Gryffindor boy called Seamus Finnegan sat on Harry's other side, and he had also managed to produce some movement from his feather. The next person to achieve full levitation was Anthony Goldstein, a Ravenclaw boy and one of Harry's dorm-mates. And still Harry's feather stubbornly refused to budge.

After fifteen minutes, Harry decided that this was ridiculous. Every Ravenclaw student had managed to induce complete and perfect levitation but him, and the only Gryffindor student who hadn't managed it, Neville, had at least managed a wobbly levitation. He resolved to cheat. As he had been doing for the entire lesson, Harry waved his wand at the feather, but as he was doing so, he gathered a pocket of compressed air beneath the feather, drawing particles from above it to create a partial vacuum. "_Wingardium Leviosa_," he whispered, and although it had no effect whatsoever, the feather still rose, the partial vacuum pulling it into the air, and the compressed pocket beneath pushing it upwards. And although Flitwick praised him profusely for managing such a perfect levitation, his success was fabricated and felt hollow because of it. Needless to say, he was in a foul mood as they walked to potions. At least he wouldn't have to use his wand in there.

Harry sat next to Hermione again in the dingy dungeon class room. A small student cauldron rested on the table between them. Professor Snape, a hooked nosed, greasy haired man, was standing at the front of the class, reading from the register. Harry was currently reading the last few pages of his potions text book, and so did not see Professor Snape's eyes narrow as he read out his name. Harry looked up and announced his presence to the teacher. Snape's eyes fell on him, and then they widened as the would-be sneer faded from his face. His breath caught. He blinked and seemed to re-awaken, and then cleared his throat.

"Mr Potter," he said quietly, although the whole class could hear him. "Name all three uses of the wood of the Willow tree in magic."

Harry was a bit affronted by the abrupt interrogation, but considered it an easy question so answered quickly: "As a wand wood, in various healing remedies and in potions designed to encourage dreams. Of course there are other uses for the leaves or the bark." Snape looked back down at his register and nodded curtly.

But Harry wasn't finished. "You only said there were three, but there is a fourth. It can be burned in an enchanted fire to produce visions of self knowledge." Snape didn't look up, but continued on with the register as if he hadn't heard anything. But Harry was sure he had heard a sharp intake of breath.

The rest of the lesson went smoothly (if you discount a number of explosions from the cauldron shared by Ron and Seamus Finnegan), the Professor instructing the class to prepare a simple sleeping draught as per his instructions on the board. Harry and Hermione whizzed through the making of their potion – Hermione was adapt at making something to a recipe, and Harry had made something like this with his Grandmother. Although he didn't tell Hermione that. A number of times during the lesson Anissu poked his head out from Harry's sleeve to complain about the smell, but Harry quickly shushed him and got him out of sight before anyone saw.

Their only lesson after lunch was Transfiguration, which Harry was dreading. He was certain he would have the same problem as he had had in Charms, but he didn't think he would be able to pretend in this class.

Professor McGonagall swept into the classroom once all were seated. She immediately began to caution them about the twin dangers of transfiguration and messing around in her class. The Ravenclaws shared this class with the Hufflepuffs, and while the Ravenclaws sat up and listened attentively, the Hufflepuffs cowered in fear. McGonagall instructed the class that they would be transfiguring matchsticks in needles. She directed them in the proper wand movements and visualisations, then had them practice the incantation, which was a generic incantation intended for all inanimate to inanimate transfigurations. She then told them to practice. Hermione immediately got to work, and after five minutes, her matchstick had become shiny and slightly pointy. Professor McGonagall was very pleased with her and held up the matchstick for the class to see. Harry on the other hand, had made no progress. No matter how hard he tried, the matchstick refused to change.

By the end of the lesson, most students had made some progress in transfiguring their matchsticks, and all left when dismissed in relatively high spirits. Harry, however, remained sitting at the desk, morosely trying to change his matchstick, which lay before him, still wooden.

"Mr Potter," said McGonagall as she stood in front of him, "you are allowed to leave now."

Harry looked up at her and resisted the urge to through his wand down in frustration as he said: "It won't work."

McGonagall sighed. "Transfiguration is a difficult subject. Don't be disheartened if you do not get results straight away."

"But I've had problems elsewhere as well. I couldn't even do a Levitation Charm." Harry let his head drop onto the desk.

"But Professor Flitwick was praising his first year Ravenclaws for each and every one of them achieving perfect levitation…"

"I cheated," mumbled Harry. McGonagall was taken aback.

"How so?" She inquired.

"I used … other magic," was Harry's quiet reply. McGonagall was about to question further, when reminded herself of whom the boy had been living with. Maybe…

"I'm going to have to take you to Professor Dumbledore, Mr Potter." Harry had a sudden moment of panic. He didn't want to get into trouble on his first day. "Don't worry, Mr Potter. You're not in trouble." She'd almost read his mind.

She led Harry to the entrance of Dumbledore's Office, a winged gargoyle, and announced the password (pear drop). The gargoyle sprang aside, and Harry ascended the revolving staircase that was concealed behind. When he reached the heavy wooden door at the top, he knocked three times, clearly. The door swung open, and someone called from within, "Come in, Harry."

Harry went inside. The walls were decorated with hundreds of portraits, the occupants of whom were all sleeping. Little spindly legged tables were scattered about the room, bearing small silver instruments that tinkled and puffed smoke.

"Good afternoon, Harry." Harry looked across the room to see Dumbledore sitting behind a grand oak desk, accompanied by a magnificent phoenix. Harry gasped. He had only ever seen a phoenix once before.

"What can I do for you then?" asked the Headmaster.

"Professor McGonagall sent me, sir." Answered Harry, "Because I'm having trouble doing magic with my wand." He was ashamed to say it.

Dumbledore frowned. "May I see your wand," he asked. Harry nodded, and crossed the room, pulling his wand from his pocket as he went. He laid it on the desk in front of Dumbledore, who picked it up and twirled it in his fingers. "This was crafted under the guidance of a rune-stone, was it not?" Again Harry nodded. "Do you have the stone with you?" continued the teacher. Harry reached into his bag and pulled out the small square box in which he kept the rune stone. "I have a suggestion," said Dumbledore. "If you trace the rune, as you will have done when you bought the wand, but then perform a simple spell well the magical emanation still resonates, I think you will get a result. Harry did so, and again the bright light emanated from it and the two notes sounded from the stone and the wand. Harry quickly picked up the wand, and it immediately felt different to before. He felt much more connected to it, somehow. He pointed it at a book on Dumbledore's desk, swished it in the now familiar motions, muttered the incantation, and the book rose a few feet into the air. Harry released the magic, and as the notes faded, cried out "Yes!" Dumbledore smiled.

"Thank you, sir," said Harry.

"Now, when you attempt spells in the future, just remember the feeling you had just now."

Harry nodded, and turned to leave.

"A moment, Harry." Harry stopped.

"The last time I saw you, I'm sure you wore glasses." And indeed Harry was not wearing glasses; his piercing emerald eyes were unconcealed.

"Not since I was five," answered Harry. "My Grandmother healed my sight."

Dumbledore looked surprised. "Remarkable woman, your Grandmother."

"That reminds me, sir. I have this to give to you." He took the letter from Taqqiq from his pocket and placed it on the desk. "It's from her."

Dumbledore nodded, and Harry left. On his way out past the gargoyle, he met Hagrid.

"Hello there, Harry," said the huge man.

"Hey Hagrid!" replied Harry.

"How're you settlin' in to school?"

"Not bad thanks." Harry decided not to mention his wand-related blip.

"You should come down to visit me, for tea or summat," suggested Hagrid. "You could bring your friends along, o' course."

"Thanks Hagrid, that'd be great."

But as Hagrid turned to leave up the stairs to Dumbledore's office, Harry sensed a strange and profound _wrongness_ from a pocket of his coat. Not like the _wrongness_ of Quirrell's turban, not as dark, but _wrong_ all the same.

xxx

After Hagrid left, Dumbledore pondered the small parcel he had left. The Philosopher's Stone was to be placed deep within the bowels of Hogwarts castle, now that the protective enchantments were ready.

Concerning the issue of Harry's wand troubles, Dumbledore suspected it was to do with learning various magics that were beyond the use of a wand very early in life. The concept of using a wand was simply too alien for him. Dumbledore turned his attention to the letter from Taqqiq. He opened it, then read it quickly. His eyes grew wider and wider as it progressed. Frantically, he gathered parchment and a quill, and began to write a hasty reply.

**AN: Hello all, another chapter for you! Thanks so much to all my reviewers – reviews keep me going!**

**Just to clarify, this will not by Snape/Harry, nor will it be Mentor!Snape. Snape is only going to be more civil to Harry, for reasons that will be explained later.**

**Please review, even if you have a criticism, as I will be happy to improve my writing. If I don't manage another chapter before then, Merry Christmas to all!**


	9. Chapter 9 Practice Makes Perfect, Eventu

**The Circle Around the Fire**

**Chapter 9 – Practice Makes Perfect, Eventually**

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One

Harry went down to breakfast on his second day along with Hermione and Padma Patil. Anissu had decided to remain in Ravenclaw Tower today to explore. Harry was in a better mood today than yesterday – he would be able to try out his new technique for wand-work. However, his cheery mood wasn't echoed by all other inhabitants of the hall. At the Gryffindor table, Neville sat looking very despondent. Harry told Hermione and Padma that he'd catch up with them, and then went over to check on Neville.

"You all right, Neville?" asked Harry as he sat down on the bench next to him. The other boy was miserably swirling his cereal around in his bowl.

"Yeah, okay," he answered, then seemed to change his mind. "Malfoy stole my Remembrall in Flying Class yesterday."

"That bastard," muttered Harry. Neville looked up at him in surprise. He was quite well-spoken, and unused to strong language. He was equally shocked by the vehement determination now etched on Harry's face. "Don't worry Neville," said Harry through clenched teeth. "Bastard Malfoy will get what's coming to him." He patted Neville on the back, then stood and strode over to the Ravenclaw table, where Hermione was talking to Padma and Morag McDougall about pizza, of all things.

"Hi Harry," she looked up as he approached. "I'm explaining some Muggle foods to Padma and Morag." Harry realised that both Morag and Padma were purebloods. Harry groaned inwardly – he hated that term. 'Of wizarding ancestry' was better, he thought.

xxx

The morning passed uneventfully, their first lesson being Defence Against the Dark Arts with the Hufflepuffs. The lesson consisted mostly of a lecture by Quirrell on various curses and counter-curses, including the Curse of the Bogies, which Harry mostly missed as he spent the entire time trying to ignore the _wrongness_ emanating from Quirrell's turban. He did get to try out his new wand technique, however, when Quirrell set them a few spells to practice. To his pleasure, he had little trouble with them. Next was Herbology, which Harry thoroughly enjoyed, even if it was shared with Slytherin. Not that he had anything against Slytherin, mind you, but he didn't get on well with Malfoy. They got to handle various different magical plants, by way of introduction, and Harry was very keen to add to his already considerable knowledge of the uses of plants, especially in Healing.

The first free moment that Harry had that day was during lunch. He ate quickly, then told Hermione he needed to look something up, before dashing from the Great Hall. He left the castle through the front gates. The lawn before the castle sloped down to the forest, with the lake spreading out to the right. Thankfully, everyone was still at lunch, so the grounds were deserted. Harry glanced around, and, satisfied that he wouldn't be seen, hurried across the grass, only relaxing when he was under the eaves of the Forbidden Forest.

The sun was at its highest point in the sky, so its light shone directly into the wood, casting pools of radiance where it broke through the tree cover. A dappled effect of brightness and dark was created, weaving beautifully together in the stillness of the forest. Everything was so overwhelmingly alive, yet still, as if holding its breath, waiting. Harry breathed deeply, inhaling the natural smell of the trees, of the damp grass and of the leaves that had recently begun to fall. They left a pattern of reds and golds intermingled with the green of the still-living leaves and the grass. a feeling of calm washed over Harry. He had returned to his comfort zone. He felt on top the world, as if nothing could possibly disturb him from his current tranquillity.

With practiced grace, Harry moved with silent steps deeper into the forest. The air grew gradually dimmer as the trees grew thicker, but the sunlight was still continuously in evidence. He soon reached a clearing, almost perfectly circular, with the tall trees arching magnificently upwards, like the walls and ceiling of a cathedral. The sun reasserted itself brightly here, and Harry initially had to shield his eyes. He settled himself on a mossy tree stump at the edge of the clearing, and pulled a crumpled letter from his pocket. It was a letter from his Grandmother, with instructions on what to practice while at Hogwarts. He had already read it a number of times, but he gave it another scan to check he had everything right. Taqqiq believed that he was close to manifesting an astral projection, so he was to work at that. She also thought it prudent to consolidate his manipulation of plants, and to move on to controlling rock and soil. Harry decided to begin at the start.

It took him less than ten minutes to gather wood and light a fire for an Ikuma – after all, he had done so almost every day while living with Taqqiq. When the fire, built of oak and hawthorn, was burning merrily, Harry drew some herbs from his shoulder bag, along with a mortar and pestle, and crushed the herbs together. He added water from a phial, which contained melted snow, to make the powder into a paste. He incanted a few words over the mixture, his voice resonating with harmonics and magical frequencies. It was nowhere near as profound as his Grandmother's _Vox Praecantator_, or Enchanter's Voice, but he was getting there. The green paste brightened to white, and Harry outlined his eyes and his mouth with it. He pulled a small box from his bag, and sprinkled some of the powder from within onto the Ikuma. Copious fumes billowed from the fire, which shimmered into veils of colour when Harry chanted the spells. He began to step around the fire, continuing his chant, encouraging the veils to circle. He began to dance, an odd, slightly disjointed routine, with arms spread wide like wings. He danced faster and faster, always circling the fire, and began to relax into the dance, his movements becoming smoother and more graceful. The dance reached its fastest point, and the veils of colour were spinning in a perfect round, emitting a beautiful chord. Suddenly, Harry stopped, and the veils followed suit. Closing his eyes, Harry fell into a trance.

He sent his mind from his body, and with his Sight he saw the trees beneath him rolling away as he flew back towards the castle. The school loomed up before him, majestic against the sky and mountains. He passed through the walls of one of the towers and looked around. He found himself in a corridor, not one he'd been in before. No one was in sight. He looked down at his body, but it wasn't there. Harry sighed mentally. Never mind, he thought. Better luck next time. He was about to turn and leave when he heard someone approaching. Draco Malfoy and Vincent Crabbe were turning the corner to where Harry's viewpoint was. Malfoy had something in his hand.

Neville's Remembrall. If Harry had teeth to bare in this form, he would have done. As it was, he settled with mentally muttering swear words. All of a sudden, Crabbe started.  
"Did you hear that?" he asked Malfoy.

Malfoy too had jumped. "Yeah. Like someone whispering."

Harry was pleasantly surprised. He had failed to manifest a visual form, but he had managed to project his voice successfully. He kept quiet to avoid giving himself away. Malfoy shrugged and continued down the corridor. Harry followed like an invisible ghost. He soon realised where they were. This was the third floor, approaching the forbidden corridor. They were rapidly closing in on the door to said corridor, which Malfoy unlocked with a spell, opened a crack, and placed the Remembrall inside, before hastily closing the door.

"That fat tub'll never find it there," sneered Malfoy to Crabbe. Crabbe sniggered. The two hurried off back down the corridor. Harry was very curious as to what was on the other side of that door, and so passed through it. The sight that greeted him was a shock. Sleeping peacefully, but filling the entire corridor, was a massive three-headed dog. Harry shuddered. He was glad to not really be there, or he would most likely be dead by now. Harry was about to leave, and return to his body, when something caught his eye. The dog's right forepaw was resting on a small wooden trapdoor. Curious, Harry floated down towards it, easily passing through it also. Inside was dark, but not too dark to see. He was at the top of a very tall narrow chamber. He sped to the bottom at the speed of thought, and gasped with shock. A large, sprawling plant was growing here, which Harry recognised as Devil's Snare. Again, Harry was very glad not to really be there.

Harry was suddenly aware of something gathering in the air around him. Some magic was congregating about his presence, growing stronger and more and more unwelcoming. However, before Harry could react, his astral projection was cast from the chamber. He hurtled uncontrollably out of the castle, and crashed with tremendous force back into his body. His eyes flew open, taking in the smouldering fire, and dying smoke. There must have been an enchantment to prevent entry such as mine, thought Harry. He looked up at the sky, telling the time by the sun. I should really be heading back up to the castle, he thought. He packed away his belongings, and made sure that the fire was completely burnt out, before returning to the castle. His next lesson was Flying, but before it started, he surreptitiously crept to the third floor, where he retrieved Neville's Remembrall, taking great care not to disturb the dog.

On the way to Flying, he met with Hermione, who was going to the same lesson, and Neville, who had Transfiguration. Harry handed over the Remembrall.

"Oh, wow… thanks Harry," stuttered Neville. He beamed at Harry. "How did you get it?"

"I saw Malfoy with it and followed him. I saw him hiding it. He's not very subtle." It wasn't a complete lie.

Neville continued to thank Harry, but Hermione remained unconvinced. Harry wasn't _that_ good a liar, and Hermione was sure this was like the incident in which Harry found Trevor the toad. She didn't mention it, however, as they parted with Neville and headed to Flying.

xxx

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Harry no longer found wand-work a particular problem, but sometimes it seemed as if some things wand-related came to him slower than to the other Ravenclaws. One Friday, he went down to visit Hagrid, along with Hermione. They had a good conversation, piping hot tea, and surprisingly tasty rock cakes, once one broke through the stony hard outer layer. Harry did this by surreptitiously ramming it against the stone floor. As they were preparing to leave, Harry told Hermione he'd catch up with her. She left, and Harry asked Hagrid a question that had been nagging at him.

"Hagrid," asked Harry tentatively, "when I met you the other day outside Dumbledore's office, I sensed something in your pocket. May I ask what that was?"

Hagrid sighed and looked worried. "I'm afraid not, Harry. That matter is private between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flammel." He looked suddenly shocked, and clapped a big hand to his mouth. "I shouldn't have said that," he murmured.

Harry was quick to reassure him. "Don't worry, Hagrid. I won't tell anyone." Privately, he resolved to research. He wandered if it had something to do with the three-headed dog and the Devil's Snare.

About a month into term, at the beginning of October, was the first Quidditch match of the year. Harry had heard of Quidditch, of course, but he wasn't involved in playing himself. He wasn't very keen on flying on a broom; he felt very unstable – a side-effect of being able to turn into a bird and fly with wings. He much preferred that. Harry and Hermione sat with Padma and Michael Corner in the Ravenclaw stands. They were joined by Neville and Ron from the Gryffindor stands, under the excuse that the view of the Gryffindor hoops was better at the Ravenclaw end. Harry rolled his eyes at this. Ron and Neville were Quidditch mad. As was Seamus, but he wasn't with them.

"Hey guys, where's Seamus?" Harry asked. "I'd have thought he'd be with you."

"Nah, he's playing," answered Ron.

Hermione turned her head sharply. "First years aren't supposed to play on house teams," she quipped.

"McGonagall gave him special permission," said Neville. "Something about not letting his talent go to waste." Ron snorted. He obviously had a dimmer view of Seamus' abilities than McGonagall.

The teams traipsed out onto the pitch. The match was Slytherin versus Gryffindor, and the captains almost growled at each other when they shook hands. The Bludgers and the Snitch were released, followed by the Quaffle, and the game began. The Gryffindor Seeker, Alicia Spinnet, disappeared instantaneously, on the hunt for the Snitch, hot on the heels of the Slytherin Seeker, Terence Higgs. Katie Bell, a Gryffindor, was the first Chaser to get the Quaffle, and she passed it to Angelina Johnson, who passed to Seamus, the third Chaser. They flew in a V pattern, reminiscent of geese, and quickly traversed the pitch towards the Slytherin goalposts. The Slytherin Beaters had a few close shots, and the Gryffindors narrowly avoided various fouls by the Slytherin Chasers, particularly by Marcus Flint, the Captain, but they managed to score. Lee Jordan, a third year Gryffindor and commentator, announced: "Ten points to Gryffindor!"

xxx

Harry and Hermione sat with Neville, Ron and Seamus in the Gryffindor common room. The three Gryffindors had debated extensively whether the Ravenclaws should be let in or not, but finally decided that they could be trusted. The Fat Lady in the entrance portrait was very annoyed with them thence after; they had kept her from a tea party with a knight from the fifth floor.

The Gryffindor celebrations were in full swing, and Seamus was in much demand, as he had scored the winning goal. Terence Higgs had managed to catch the snitch, but Seamus had added an extra ten points that pushed them far enough ahead that they still won. It had been quite a spectacular game – not that Harry really had any comparison, never having seen a Quidditch match before.

Ron's brothers, the twins, had commandeered a large amount of food and drink from the Hogwarts House Elves, and what seemed like the entire Gryffindor House was laughing and chatting; generally enjoying themselves. Harry felt a smile creeping up his cheeks. For some reason, seeing happy people made him inordinately happy himself.

**AN: Sorry for not updating sooner, I've been away. In regards to this chapter, I'm sorry for copping out of writing the Quidditch scene. I found it quite hard to know what to say. Hope everyone had a good Christmas and New Year!**

**Thanks to all my reviewers – keep it coming!**


	10. Chapter 10 A Troll and a Horcrux

**The Circle Around the Fire**

**Chapter 10 – A Troll and a Horcrux**

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One

Harry stood at the door of the girls' toilet on the ground floor, looking out into the corridor. The last of the students headed for the Halloween Feast filed past.

"Hermione…" Harry called as he walked cautiously to the cubicle door, "will you come out now? They're all at the feast…"

There was silence from behind the door for a moment, before Harry heard the bolt being drawn across and the door opened.

"Oh, Harry!" cried Hermione as she threw her arms around Harry.

Harry patted her back and tried to console her.

"But… why would he be so mean?"

"I don't know Hermione," said Harry for the umpteenth time. "He didn't mean it, I'm sure."

Earlier that afternoon, Ron and Hermione had got into a heated argument which rapidly descended into an insult match and ended with Hermione running off in tears, Harry hot on her heals.

Hermione gradually calmed down, and Harry encouraged her to clean herself up at the sink. While the tap was running, Harry was sure he could hear something. Was it… screaming? He couldn't really tell. He didn't have much time to ponder it before a more pressing matter presented itself. A foul stench reached his nose and he could clearly hear thuds, like very heavy footsteps, in the corridor outside the toilet.

"Hermione," he whispered to the girl. "Something's coming. Turn the tap off slowly."

"What…" she began, but Harry shushed her. She did as he said and slowly turned the tap off. The thuds were getting closer. Harry pushed Hermione around the corner of the last cubicle, and peered round. The thuds stopped, abruptly, and with his keen hearing, Harry though that he could hear sniffing. The thuds began again, and soon their originator came into view. A massive troll, with dirty grey skin, carrying a heavy wooden club in its huge hands, pushed its way through the too-small bathroom door. Hermione barely stifled a scream when she saw it. Harry was rapidly trying to work out how they were going to escape. He came up with an idea. It probably wouldn't work. But it was the best he could do. He made a quick decision. It wouldn't matter if Hermione knew, he thought.

The troll had not yet noticed them, and Harry knelt, holding his palm a hairsbreadth from the smooth flag-stoned floor. Breathing deeply, he began to draw moisture from the air, turning it into liquid water which pooled under his hand. With a tiny gesture, he sent the quickly growing puddle flowing across the floor towards the troll. He drew forth more and more water, and it spread out across the bathroom floor, effectively flooding it. Hermione gasped when she saw what Harry was doing. And the troll heard. It stepped forward, swinging its club. Harry knocked Hermione out of the path of the gargantuan weapon, as he transformed himself into a hawk. He rapidly beat his wings, narrowly swerving to avoid the swinging club. But even with the reflexes of a bird of prey, the club missed him by inches, just clipping his tail feathers.

Yet as the troll stepped forward, its foot landed in Harry's pool. The momentum of swinging the heavy club carried it forward, and it slipped on the wet floor, falling thunderously to the stone tiles. But it was unharmed, and began to pick himself up. It went to grab the club, which it had dropped. It floated out of his reach. Harry's head snapped around as he transformed back into a human, and he saw Hermione with her wand drawn. She kept the club out of the troll's reach with her Levitation Charm, and, being rather stupid, the troll was unable to co-ordinate both standing up and reaching for the club at the same time. It kept slipping on the water, and Hermione carefully directed the club to float directly above the head of the troll. She brought her wand down sharply, slicing through the air, and the club came crashing down on the head of the troll. Harry heard an awfully loud smack when it impacted, and the troll fell completely and didn't get up.

"I didn't kill it, did I?" asked Hermione. Trust her to be worried about something that had just tried to kill her. Not that Harry thought it wrong – it was a very commendable virtue.

"Don't worry. I think it's just unconscious."

"What was…" she gestured and the water, "and what was…" she gestured at him. He assumed she meant the shapeshifting.

"I'll explain later," he said to her quietly, as only a moment later, a group of teachers hurried frantically into the room. Professor McGonagall was at their head, and she took in the scene that presented itself to her with wide eyes.

"What happened?" she asked. "What are you two doing here?"

"Umm…" said Harry." He was a bit frazzled, and his mental faculties hadn't caught up yet. "We weren't at the feast…" he began.

"I needed to clean myself up, Professor. I got mud on my robes." Hermione spoke clearly and confidently. "Harry kindly offered to wait for me. When the troll came we managed to knock it out with its own club, using a Levitation Charm."

McGonagall was dumbfounded.

"If I may," piped up a voice from behind McGonagall. She stepped aside to reveal Professor Flitwick. "These two are to be commended for their quick thinking and bravery. And their excellent command of the charm." He beamed at them. "I think fifteen points each for Ravenclaw would be appropriate…" He looked questioningly up at McGonagall.

"Err, yes," she said, shaking herself. "Well done…" she began, but was interrupted by two pairs of running feet echoing very loudly in the corridor outside.

"Harry, Hermione!" The owners of the feet called. They slowed as they neared the bathroom. Ron and Neville entered, red –faced and panting. "Harry, Hermione! There's a troll! You need to…" They were silenced when they saw the crowd of teachers, and the huge body of the troll sprawled in the centre of the room.

"Mr Weasley, Mr Longbottom. I believe you were all instructed to return to your dormitories." McGonagall pursed her lips. The two boys worked their mouths soundlessly. "Nevertheless, you showed great loyalty and bravery in coming to warn your friends. Take five points for Gryffindor."

The nodded, still panting, as McGonagall swept from the room. Flitwick followed, and then Professor Snape, who had been lurking at the back. Harry noticed that the man was limping.  
"Are you two all right?" asked Neville.

"Yes, just a bit shaken," answered Harry. Hermione nodded curtly, looking at Ron.

"Hermione, I'm sorry," Ron said, sounding repentant. "I didn't mean it. You're not a stupid know-it-all, and you _are_ my friend. I'm sorry, am I forgiven?"

Hermione pursed her lips, before giving him a perfunctory hug and leaving the bathroom. Harry followed, and heard Ron ask Neville: "Does that mean yes?"

xxx

When they entered the Ravenclaw common room, Hermione whispered to Harry:

"So, will you tell me now?"

"I... just have to write to someone first," replied Harry. "I'll tell you when they reply." Hermione nodded, then when straight to bed.

After fetching Hedwig from the dormitory, Harry remained in the common room, which was empty save a couple of seventh years writing essays. Most people had returned to the feast. He sat at a desk, and took out parchment and quill to write a letter to Taqqiq.

_Dear Grandmother,_

_Sorry that it's a bit since I last wrote, I have been quite busy. Today has been… interesting, to say the least. Somehow a troll got into the school, and almost attacked me and Hermione. Don't worry, we dealt with it. And we're fine. I have a question, though. I had to reveal my elemental manipulation and shapeshifting in order to defeat the troll. Should I lie to Hermione, or is it all right for her to know the truth?_

_Oh, and something I forgot in my last letter. When I practice with the Ikuma, I use the Vox Praecantator as usual, but something happened on the train on the way here. We encountered some bullies, and when I told them to leave, I accidentally used the Vox. I s there anything significant in that?_

_Hope all's well,_

_Harry_

Harry enclosed the letter in an envelope, addressed it and sealed it, then passed it to Hedwig.

"Fly safely," he said to her. She twitted a farewell, then winged her way out of the window. She would fly south, to Edinburgh and the Scottish National Owl Post Office, where the letter would be transferred to a Trans-Atlantic Message Goose1.

xxx

The next morning, but half-way around the world, Harry's Grandmother was also writing a letter. She was replying to the letter that Dumbledore had sent her in response to the letter she had sent to him through Harry. She remembered well the day it appeared on her table in a flash of phoenix fire a month or so ago. She sighed and shook her head. She had been having a very busy time recently. Three incidents in a month. Two magical attacks and murders against Muggle families – she had blocked the perpetrators' magic completely for that. The third incident had been more worrying. A rather powerful young witch had tried to kill a group of goblins in Toronto. Taqqiq arrived in time to save them, but as the witch destroyed herself, she screamed in an insane, gleeful voice: "He is coming, Mamanti! And there's nothing you can do to stop him!"

Taqqiq had written to Dumbledore regarding Harry's scar. She sat back for a moment and remembered.

xxx

Not long after Dumbledore had visited her when she had rescued Harry, she began to become increasingly worried about the dark magic that continually seemed from Harry's scar. Yes, she knew it to be a curse scar, but Taqqiq was an expert in such things, and she knew for certain that a mere curse scar should not leave such a residue. She had decided to investigate.

She waited until the five year old Harry slept, then, by touching his forehead lightly, she had enchanted the little boy to remain asleep until she had finished her detective work.

Carefully lifting his frail body, she carried him through into her magic room, and up to the slab of rock that barred the entrance to the tunnel that led off it2.

She rolled the stone aside with a flexing of her will, and then went into the dark corridor revealed behind. It sloped downwards quite steeply until she reached a dimly lit cavern, the oldest part of the cave system. The ceiling stretched up so high it was lost in the darkness. Stalactites hung down, mighty and thick, some long enough to merge with the tree-trunk like stalagmites that were forcing themselves skyward. In the centre of the cavern, in wide circle formed by a series of stalagmites, a small fire burned. It appeared to have no fuel, and seemed to float in the air inches above the rocky ground. In the centre of the fire, where it burned hottest, rested an object that Taqqiq had been responsible for protecting for almost sixty years. The Circlet of Sedna.

It was made from white reindeer antler, bent into the shape of an armband thousands of years ago. It was about four inches in diameter, and ancient, primitive carvings adorned its surface. Depictions of bears and great whales and soaring eagles seemed to dance across it, intertwining with geometric patterns. It had powerful magic; disastrous in the wrong hands. Dumbledore liked to refer to it as the Forgotten Fourth Deathly Hallow. It floated unburned, spinning slowly in the enchanted fire.

Taqqiq laid Harry down next to the fire, which seemed to glow brighter as she approached. Taqqiq sat next to the still-sleeping Harry, and closed her eyes. She took a pot from within her clothing, and with the paste that was inside, she made triangular markings on her cheeks. She breathed deeply, and sent herself into a trance. She didn't send herself from her body, but instead she let her magical senses extend. She could feel Harry's presence, and the already considerable magical potential that he held. She delved deeper, sensing the edges of his dreams. She went past them in her search. She sank through memories, disregarding them all. Eventually she found herself at a point from where she could go no further.

And it was terrible.

She felt Harry's very being, his soul; that was as it should be. But there was more. A dreadful parasite clung tightly to Harry. It had latched itself into him, eating away at his very core like a leach. It was feeding off Harry's life, stunting his growth, absorbing his magic. The dark _wrongness _that poured from it was unbearable to endure. She didn't know how Harry could possibly be surviving its presence. It was an alien scrap of soul; its fangs so deeply impeded in Harry that he had no way to fight it off. It soon noticed Taqqiq's presence, and she felt the cold paralysing effect of its attention. It began to reach towards her, but she was too quick. She hurled herself from Harry's mind and body and awoke with a start.

She shivered in horror. Harry was being used for the foulest piece of magic conceivable; as a receptacle for a ripped soul. A Horcrux.

Taqqiq sent to thinking. She knew how to destroy the soul fragment, but she didn't know if the process would harm Harry. She wondered who the soul fragment belonged to. The answer came to her in an instant. Voldemort. He was one of the Torn if anyone was. She was certain he had been Torn when he had come to try to steal the Circlet of Sedna. Taqqiq suspected that the soul fragment within Harry was an accident. A living receptacle would be too unstable to be sure of the fragment taking hold. She realised that it probably occurred when the Killing Curse rebounded. In that case, Voldemort's soul must have been incredibly unstable to begin with, for a fragment to have broken off. He must have other Horcruxes, she had thought.

She needed to act quickly, before the soul shard did more damage. Standing up, she faced the floating fire and the Circlet of Sedna. She spread her arms wide, like wings. In a voice resounding with deep undertones and clear harmonics, a powerful _Vox Praecantator_, she intoned a chant. She repeated it over and over, as a mantra. As the chant reached its final words, the harmonics in her voice rang forth louder and louder. The deep chords became more pronounced, and on the last repetition of the mantra, she thrust her hand into the centre of the fire. She took hold of the Circlet, and pulled it out. It left the fire with a flash, which remained alight. Taqqiq's hand was angrily burnt. The fire was enchanted to burn even her, the only person to know the removal chant, in case someone managed to posses her in their search for the Circlet.

Ignoring the pain, she had placed the Circlet around Harry's little wrist. It hummed, a deep, reverberating note, almost too deep to hear, and shrank to fit his arm. Taqqiq hoped that its magic would protect Harry's body and soul from her attack on Voldemort's soul fragment.

She left Harry sleeping in the cavern, and returned to her magic room. Racing around the cave she collected herbs and powders, and mixed them together in a bowl. She combined them with water and they became a paste, which glowed at her word. She gathered more herbs, then went back to where Harry lay in the other cavern. She took the paste, and marked a circle around Harry's curse scar. She cast the remainder of her herbs on the fire. Taqqiq was immediately overcome by the scent of the fumes that billowed forth. Gritting her teeth, she raised her arms. With her formidable will, she reached out into the world, and, gathering to herself wave after wave of natural magic, she called forth the Shamanlight. It burst into being, filling the cavern with light and colour. The very rock beneath her feat began to vibrate, and her small body shook with effort. Her grey hair rose up like a halo around her head, and she clawed her fingers, holding her hands out towards Harry. The blinding light that filled the cave began to close in, centring on Harry's little form. The colours began to spin, and a beautifully clear chord sounded. Taqqiq directed the Shamanlight into Harry's body, through the portal she had made of his scar. She followed, and pulled the magic down into Harry's deepest core. She located the soul shard easily. She could hear it scream in anger as it was engulfed by the Light. It shrank away, but then fought back. Dark magic seeped from it, attempting to overwhelm the Shamanlight. But the Light was too strong, and Taqqiq cast aside the shade's dark tendril. In its rage, Voldemort's soul fragment turned on its host as it was destroyed. Even as it was burned away, it hurled all its strength against Harry's body and soul. For a moment Taqqiq feared it would kill him as it died, but a new magic suddenly thrummed through Harry's system. The Circlet of Sedna on his arm flashed brightly, and the soul shard's magic rebounded. In her proximity to it, Taqqiq could feel its anger and agony as it was destroyed by the Shamanlight. She felt no pity, and hurled more and more Light at it, until it was at last completely seared away.

Then, silence. It was gone. Taqqiq reached out through Harry's whole core, searching for any remnants of it. There were none. With relief, Taqqiq released the Shamanlight, which returned to the world like rays from the Sun.

Taqqiq withdrew from Harry's mind, and opened her eyes, breathing heavily. He lay peacefully, still asleep. His scar had looked healthier than she had ever seen it.

xxx

Back in the present, Taqqiq shook herself from her reminiscing. She had told all this to Dumbledore, as well as her theories about more Horcruxes. He had replied, telling her that he had suspected as such for a long time. He offered his sympathies for Harry's plight. He had thought more on the matter than she, however, and had some ideas about what the Horcruxes could be, and where they might be hidden. She was replying to offer her assistance in any way she could.

She was finishing off her letter when another arrived. She thanked the bird who delivered it, offering her some food and a rest.

She opened the letter, and recognised the handwriting as Harry's. She gave it a read, suppressing panic at the mention of the troll. Pursing her lips, she added a postscript to her letter to Albus.

_PS. Why on Earth was there a troll in your school?_

Regarding the rest of the letter, Harry's questions; she decided to answer them personally. She calculated that it would be early afternoon in Scotland – Harry should still be on his lunch break.

She prepared an Ikuma, and the markings for astral projection. Sinking into a trance, she sent herself across the ocean.

xxx

Harry was indeed at lunch. He was sitting in the library, holding a hushed conversation with Ron and Seamus. He and Hermione were helping them with some Astronomy homework. He jumped slightly when he heard a familiar voice whisper his name. He glanced around, but there was no one. Excusing himself with a lie about needing the loo, he left the library, and went to an alcove under a staircase and behind a suit of armour. Checking that no one was around, he said:

"You can be seen now, Grandmother." Her astral projection shimmered into being. He smiled at the familiar sight, and she smiled back.

"Hello, Harry," she said. "I trust you are having a pleasant time. Are you studies going well?" She meant both those for Hogwarts and for her.

"Yes Grandmother. Are you all right?"

"Yes, Harry. I am here to answer the questions from your letter."

"Thanks," he replied.

She continued. "In regards to yourinadvertent use of the _Vox Praecantator_, it is perfectly natural. It is just a further sign that you are definitely destined to be Mamanti of the Islands at the Back of the North Wind, the British Isles."

He nodded.

"And about informing the girl Hermione of the truth, you must use your digression. The existence of the Mamanti is no secret; these islands have only forgotten. If you do not wish everyone to know that you have the Mamanti power then you must be sure that Hermione is trustworthy."

"I think she is," said Harry. Taqqiq's astral projection nodded.

"Then I shall leave you. Write soon, Harry. Good bye, my Grandson."

She leant forward, and with insubstantial arms, hugged him with an embrace he couldn't feel. And she vanished.

Harry rubbed his shoulders where Taqqiq's astral form had 'touched' him. He missed his Grandmother.

**AN: Nice long chapter. I hope you enjoyed it!**

**Quick question – those people who have reviewed, have any of you received replies from yours truly? (Just checking. Not sure I have the hang of FF just yet) **

**Thanks for all the reviews. Keep Reviewing! :) **

**Another question – has anyone else been having trouble with their Traffic feature on FF. Mine isn't a happy bunny at the moment.**

**1. Trans-Atlantic Message Geese – directly pinched from **_**Transfigurations **_**by Resonant (please forgive me). If you haven't read it yet, you really should, it's absolutely fantastic (just search Transfigurations Resonant on Google). Just a warning, its NC-17 slash.**

**2. If you don't remember this tunnel, see near the end of Chapter 5. Same with the Shamanlight. Check Chapter 9 if you've forgotten the **_**Vox Praecantator**_**.**


	11. Chapter 11 Hermione's Tale

**The Circle Around the Fire**

**Chapter 11 – Hermione's Tale**

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One

"Right Hermione," whispered Harry. He licked his lips nervously and peered round the corner of a tall bookshelf. "Here is good."

He led the way into a small cubicle formed by three walls of bookshelves and one of stone. A wooden table piled high with books graced the centre of the alcove, surrounded by three chairs. The library was almost deserted, as most people were still at dinner. It was now about a week following Halloween and the troll incident, and Harry had resolved to reveal the truth about his magic to Hermione.

Harry sat down in one of the chairs, and Hermione took the one nearest. Harry hefted the heavy book he was carrying, and set it down on top of the pile on the table. He let it fall open to a particular page and as the dust cleared archaic, flowery script was revealed on the parchment.

"This is John Dee's _Encyclopaedia of the Arcane_." Hermione sat forward in her seat, evidently interested in regards to the book. Harry pointed to the entry at the top of the page. "Read this," he instructed.

Hermione began to read aloud:

_To the Mamanti, that mightie protector of our poor islands, we all owe muche thanks. Thou hast upon thy shoulders a greate burden, of which none but thou canst carry a part. With thine armoury of flame and lightning, and with thy power of the transformation, none may prevail against thee. None may shatter the peace of our islands with thee as our guardian. He that tryeth hath brought upon himself a greate and terrible fate._

"Well, he likes this Mamanti bloke a bit, doesn't he!" Hermione leaned back against her chair. "Who exactly was he. Or she," she quickly amended.

"At that time, I believe the Mamanti was in fact a woman. And it's a title, rather than a single person. The Mamanti are an ancient organisation that protects the world against dark magic. The last Mamanti of Britain was killed about a hundred years ago, and that's why Voldemort could gain power."

"So…. are you one of them?"

Harry shook his head. "I was raised by the Mamanti of Canada, but I will be Mamanti of Britain when I'm old enough."

"That's pretty amazing," said Hermione, grinning. "Quite a responsibility though. You'll have to work hard." She pursed her lips at him.

Harry smiled. "Don't worry Hermione. I'm not a Ravenclaw for nothing! Speaking of which, I'm going to do something so very Ravenclaw, and ask you to help me research something."

Hermione got a slightly scary gleam in her eyes. "Point me in the right direction," she said.

"It's about this Flammel character that Hagrid mentioned. I recognised the name, and I think it's somehow important…" he trailed off, but Hermione needed no other prompt, and she shot from her chair and whirled around the library like a dervish.

Within minutes, Hermione and Harry had discovered all the library had to offer on Flammel. They read about the Philosopher's stone, and its transformative and regenerative properties. Harry felt a cold shiver go down his spine, and the hairs on his arms stood on end. He was reminded very suddenly of the chamber he had discovered beneath the trapdoor and the three-headed dog, and the Devil's Snare, and the enchantment that had hurled him from the room. Perhaps they were protective enchantments of some sort, wondered Harry. He couldn't be totally sure. But one thing he was certain of – they were protecting the Philosopher's Stone.

xxx

Nothing more transpired concerning the Stone or Flammel for the next few weeks, and soon it was approaching Christmas. Taqqiq had advised Harry to remain at Hogwarts, as Canada was currently in the throes of a rather violent goblin uprising following a spate of killings by wizards. Harry had never particularly celebrated the holiday with his Grandmother, but he knew enough of it to appreciate the tradition of sending presents, so, with that in mind, he had got his friends a gift each. For Hermione he had got Gringotts to send him a couple of old and rare books from his vault, and for Ron, Neville and Seamus, as well as his dorm mates, he bought various items of a generic nature. He wasn't as close to them as he was to Hermione, so he was a bit unsure about what to get them. He also got Anissu and Hedwig various treats.

When Christmas day came around, Harry woke to see a pile of presents by the foot of his bed. His friends had got him various assorted wizard sweets, which he hid under his bed in order to avoid thieving fingers. Hermione had given him a book of classical philosophy, which he had to restrain himself from opening and absorbing himself within. His Grandmother had sent him a handmade charm, in appearance similar to a Dreamcatcher, which aided the negation of harmful enchantments. Anissu and Hedwig had joined forces to write him a Christmas card. Well, they had got a card from somewhere, and made various markings on it after dipping themselves in ink. He thanked them both, and gave them their treats. The final present, however, was a bit more mysterious than the animals' offering.

He took the card from the top first, and read what was written on the reverse.

_Harry,_

_This has just come into my possession. When you are alone, more information will be made clear to you._

Harry set the card aside carefully, face down, and opened the package. A silvery cloak shimmered inside the parcel, and Harry could feel the magic seeping from it, which felt somehow like chords plucked delicately on a harp. He glanced around quickly to check if his dorm mates were asleep, then took both the cloak and the letter into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. The text on the letter shivered and increased at the moment the bolt slid home.

It now read:

_Harry,_

_This was your father's Invisibility Cloak. It was handed down through the Potter line for generations, and now it passes to you. It was lost from the Potter family the night your parents were murdered, and I recently discovered it in the possession of a family who were supporters of Voldemort when he was at his full power. Don't worry; I have checked it for bewitchments. I hope you will put it to better use than they did._

_Albus Dumbledore_

Harry was quite shocked. Of course, he had known all about his parent's deaths for a long time, but this brought it home quite suddenly. A small tear trickled down his cheek, which he wiped away quickly. He was jolted out of his memories by a sudden heat under his fingers. His head snapped down, and he saw that the card from Dumbledore had spontaneously combusted. He was taking serious precautions, thought Harry.

But an Invisibility Cloak! It was a sobering to think about the evil it would have allowed in the hands of Voldemort's supporters, but he was still excited to try it out. Composing himself, he left the bathroom. He trusted Dumbledore, but he liked to do things himself, so he took the charm Taqqiq had given him, and activated it above the cloak. It detected nothing, and Harry was satisfied that it was safe. With another quick glance at the rest of the dorm to make sure they still slept, he swung the cloak around his shoulders. Looking down, he saw that his body was no longer to be seen. He put the hood of the cloak over his head, and he turned to look into the mirror surmounting the fireplace. The reflection in the mirror didn't change at all. Harry grinned to himself. Now _this_ would come in handy.

He wrote a cryptic thank you card to the Headmaster, in keeping with the sender's caution, and scribbled a note to Taqqiq, which he sent off with Hedwig.

xxx

Harry had promised Hermione that he would show her some of the magic he had learned from Taqqiq, and Boxing Day, when most students were still at home, was as good a day as any. He led a fearful Hermione into the forest with him, both wrapped up warm against the cold, which lay heavily on the ground as glistening snow.

The Ikuma took a little longer to light because of the damp wood, but when it was burning merrily, Harry cast on some herbs, and fell into a trance. He grasped Hermione's hands, and drew her with him as he Searched beyond his body. He could feel her shock and amazement through their connection, and he joyfully took her soaring over the spires of the forest. They flew across to the castle and were dancing across the threshold of the Entrance Hall, when Harry stopped suddenly. He felt Hermione's question, but was unable to explain why he had stopped. It was as if something had… _called _to him. He pulled Hermione with him as he followed the call. It wasn't summoning him, exactly, rather whatever it was seemed to exude a faint sort of gravitational pull. Harry didn't think he would have felt it had he not been in his astral form. His projected consciousness sank through the stone floor of the hall, much to Hermione's surprise, but she then followed him. They sank through layers of the dungeons, stone and earth, and, at length, came to dark chamber far beneath the castle. The darkness mattered not, as they weren't seeing with their eyes anyway, and they could See a great mirror standing freely in the centre of the chamber. Harry approached it cautiously. Hermione's anxiousness about danger permeated their connection, but Harry calmed her, as he was certain the mirror was benign. He could sense enchantments built into it, as well as some foreign spells layered over and within these, but even they seemed slightly familiar. The two projected consciousnesses now floated directly in front of the mirror. Then, taking both children quite by surprise, the surface of the mirror rippled, and both of them were suddenly reflected in the glass, twin shocked expressions glaring back at them. Harry quickly glanced down to check that he hadn't accidentally manifested an astral form, but sure enough, he was still invisible. The mirror rippled again, and suddenly Harry and Hermione were surrounded by thousands and thousands of people. They were of all nationalities, all in different clothes, all speaking different languages, but they were all crying for joy, and embracing one another. Not a cross word was said, no hand was raised in violence or hatred. The whole world stood in harmony with itself. Harry felt a tear slide down his cheek. He glanced aside at Hermione's reflection, for she was as invisible in reality as he, and was slightly worried to see that she was deathly pale, and sobbing. He mentally brushed against her, and she seemed to latch onto him. With care, as if he were carrying her, he floated them both back up through the layers of earth, back through the castle, and returned them to their bodies in the forest.

Hermione woke with a gasp. She gave a little cry, and fell onto Harry, who hugged her back in confusion. Her narrow body wracked with sobs, and Harry assumed she had seen something different in the mirror to him.

When she had calmed down a bit, he levered her away from him and looked at her. She sniffed, and wiped away at her eyes with her sleeve.

"I suppose I should explain…" she gave a little half smile. Harry returned an encouraging one.

"Well," she began, "when I was three, my little brother Ben was born. At the time, I remember thinking he was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. I can still remember it," she repeated. "When I was eight, and he was five, our parents took us on an outing to the seaside. When Mum and Dad turned away to take the picnic out of the car, he wandered off. We searched for ages, but we couldn't find him. My Dad drove to the nearest Royal Lifeboat Association, and they dispatched a team to look for him. I didn't know it then, but my parents thought that he had been swept out to sea. My Mum and I continued to look for him on the beach. It was getting dark by the time Dad returned. And it was pitch black when we saw the lights of a boat coming into shore. Both Mum and Dad were crying, as they were certain he had drowned. I was still calling for him among the rock pools. Then the boat landed, and the team disembarked. The captain was carrying a bundle of towels against his chest. I heard my mother scream when she saw them, and I ran with her and Dad to the captain, and that little bundle. The captain looked up to see us, and then turned the bundle around, and my little brother, sodden and pale, was there, wrapped in a towel. I began to cry then, and Mum and Dad more so, but then Ben opened his eyes, which were blank and unseeing, but he called for us in his little voice, which was hoarse and cracked. I had never felt so relived and happy before that moment. My father took Ben in his arms, and my mother wept for joy. But then the captain rolled the towel away from his legs, and they were bloody and mangled. He had been tossed against rocks by the current in the sea. We took him to hospital, and they said… that he would never walk again. They said that the nerves had been severely damaged. He has been in a wheelchair ever since. And the impacts with the rocks had also damaged the cells in his brain, and he was blinded. He can't see a thing. In that mirror, I saw him and me playing together, like we used to, and running and dancing together, and with our parents."

Hermione looked directly at Harry. "The first thing I did when I got to Hogwarts was look up magical cures for such injuries. But it's impossible. Such extensive nervous reconstruction has never been achieved. I even asked Madam Pomfrey." Hermione sighed and fell back into Harry's arms.

The tears that had been threatening to fall for the entire duration of Hermione's story began to tumble down Harry's cheeks. But despite them, he gritted his teeth. With a look of determination he resolved to find a cure for Hermione's little brother.

**AN: Sorry it took so long, I hope you enjoyed it! Please review.**

**Oh, and about my foray into Ye Olde English at the start, I **_**have**_** used the correct grammatical conjugations for thou/thee/thy etc.**


	12. Chapter 12 The Trapdoor

**The Circle Around the Fire**

**Chapter 12 – The Trapdoor**

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One

Harry's astral form shimmered into being in the centre of the council chamber. He had finally managed to manifest one half-way through the spring term. The Elders set to muttering instantly, before their leader, Lema Longstaff, called for silence.

"Harry Potter of the Islands at the Back of the North Wind," she greeted him with a nod. He acknowledged her in return, before she asked, "Why do you appear before us?"

"I wish to speak with the Mamanti of the Black Sea," announced Harry with more courage than he thought he had. He felt very small in the gaze of the Elders.

"Very well," said a deep, thickly accented voice. Harry turned to see the speaker. He was a tall, gruff looking man with a heavy grey beard. He stood from his stone chair and approached Harry's astral projection. "I am Aleksandar Balakov. What can I do for you?"

Harry gulped nervously, but decided to plunge straight to the point.

"A young Norwegian ridgeback dragon is currently in the care of the gamekeeper of Hogwarts."

The tall Mamanti drew breath sharply. "I understand," continued Harry, "that there is a dragon reserve within your jurisdiction…"

"Yes," interrupted Aleksandar. "There is a dragon reserve, in Romania to be precise. This hatchling must be brought there as soon as possible. A young dragon must be near its own kind, or its development will be seriously stunted. I will come personally to collect the hatchling. Is it ready for departure now?"

Harry nodded, desperately hoping that Hagrid had followed his instructions.

"Well then," continued Aleksandar, "return to your body, Harry Potter, and I shall follow."

Harry's astral form faded out of existence, and Harry's consciousness flashed out of the ruins of the Elders' castle. As he left, he glimpsed Aleksandar vanishing in a flash of light as he Worldwalked.

Harry awoke in his body in the Forbidden Forest. His ritual fire had burned down low, and was now barely smouldering. The sky had turned dark in the time he had spent away from his body, and the stars glinted high above in the inky blackness. The air still retained its winter chill, despite it being well into spring, and Harry was forced to draw his robe tighter around him. The trees around the glade seemed to lean in, gathering above him like a vaulted roof. The night sounds of the forest were in full swing; rustling leaves, twigs cracking, and insects chirping. But after years of living in the woods with Taqqiq, Harry was not unnerved.

The darkness was banished for an instant as Aleksandar flashed into being on the other side of the clearing, ruining Harry's night vision.

"If you wouldn't mind following me, sir," said Harry, and he began to make his way out of the clearing.

"Wait Harry," whispered Aleksandar. "Listen."

Harry, listened, and heard nothing. Then he realised – all the natural sounds of the forest had been silenced. He joined Aleksandar on the other side of the clearing, and peered into the trees. The darkness pressed in around them, closing about them, as if to choke them. Harry heard nothing but his own pounding heart for what seemed like hours, until a low sound reached his ears. Aleksandar seemed to hear it at the same time, as he stiffened and crouched slightly in readiness. The sound grew louder, and Harry was eventually able to identify it. A cloak swished almost inaudibly over wet leaves. The sound grew ever closer, and with a start Harry noticed a patch of night more profoundly dark then the rest. It circled around the clearing, as if teasing its quarry.

"Show yourself!" growled Aleksandar. The sound of the cloak stopped briefly, but then started again, and this time it entered the clearing. As it entered Harry's limited range of night vision, and with a sense of foreboding, the darkness formed itself into the shape of a hooded figure, not particularly tall, but walking as one who commands authority. Harry's flesh crawled as he sensed the _wrongness_ that emanated from the figure with sickening familiarity. It gave a low chuckle.

"Brave words." Its voice was dry and strained, as if someone was trying to conceal their true voice. Even so, it appeared familiar to Harry. As it approached them it drew a wand, which it casually levelled at them. The figure continued "Who are…" but it didn't get the chance to finish his question, as Aleksandar, apparently fed up with these annoying false pleasantries, had conjured a fireball around his fist and hurled it at the stranger. The other man threw himself out of its destructive path, and spouted a stream of curses, none of which Harry recognised. The clearing was suddenly awash with the light of the stranger's spells. Aleksandar threw out an arm, knocking Harry aside, before ducking himself. With a flick of his wrist, the air between him and the stranger concussed, hurling the man to the ground. Harry, already on the ground, saw his opportunity. Burrowing his hand into the wet soil, he sent his will into the ground. The trees responded to his silent command, and their roots lifted from the earth. They wrapped around their attacker, the enduring power of the trees compressed into seconds. But the stranger responded with blasting curses and severing charms, and soon had himself free. But Harry's trick had bought them some time, and Aleksandar was ready. Even as the attacker raised his wand, Aleksandar raised his arms above his head. With surprising grace he leaped into the air, hung in mid-jump for an instant, and then began to spin. The air around him began to move, changing from stillness to gale force in a matter of moments. The trees tossed their heads in the deluge of wind, and the leaves and branches on the ground were hauled from the ground and tossed about in the storm. The stranger was plucked off his feet by the edge of Aleksandar's whirlwind, and was repeatedly hurled against the ground and the trucks of trees. Harry clung onto a root to avoid being swept away, and from his point of relative safety he looked on as the cloaked man freed himself from the clutches of the wind, and fled the clearing, flying through the trees.

At once, all was silent. Aleksandar's wind ceased as he stepped back down to the ground.

Harry licked his nervously dry lips. "Who was that?" he asked.

"I do not know," answered the older Mamanti. "Come; let us be off to collect this dragon. I will inform the headmaster about this also."

xxx

A week after Harry's encounter in the woods, and he was certain that he knew who had accosted them. He also thought he knew what they were after. Professor Quirrel's turban held exactly the same _wrongness_ as the figure in the woods. And he was after the Philosopher's Stone. Eternal life and endless riches – something the slight failure Quirrel would probably give anything for. He was probably using the forest to prepare for the guardians of the Stone. Harry resolved that he needed to do something to stop him getting his hands on it, and to do that he would need to get it himself.

On the planned evening, Harry left the dormitory. Dumbledore had been called away suddenly to the ministry, so Harry couldn't go to him with his suspicions. Harry suspected that Dumbledore had been set up. No one was left in the common room, so he hurried across it unseen. Or so he thought. As he pulled out his invisibility cloak, a candle was lit on the other side of the room.

"I'm sorry Harry, but you are rather transparent." Hermione stood from an armchair, setting aside a book. "You haven't been yourself for days. I can tell something's up. So you can tell me where you're going."

"Hermione!" hissed Harry. "You can't come with me! It's too dangerous."

"What's too…? Ah! You think someone's going to try and steal the Philosopher's Stone, don't you."

Silently berating himself for informing Hermione about his suspicions concerning the whereabouts of the stone, Harry answered: "What! How did you work that one out?"

"I didn't," replied Hermione, "but judging by your reaction I guessed right. Now, I'm coming with you."

Resolving to leave her behind when it became too hazardous, Harry put the cloak over them both and they left the common room. As they walked he explained his suspicions.

They were descending through a secret passageway which led to the fourth floor, from whence they would chance the grand staircase to the third floor, when their first obstacle presented itself. As they rounded a corner they almost fell over the two boys crouched there. They retreated to a safe distance before pulling off the cloak and announcing their presence.

"Ron, Seamus!" The two boys simultaneously jumped a foot into the air.

"What are you doing here?" asked Ron.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, an annoying habit of hers. "We could ask the same of you."

They started to look decided uncomfortable; Ron becoming suddenly fascinated by a point on the wall behind Hermione's head, and Seamus seemed to be a doing a sort of shuffle dance.

"Err… we… Malfoy…"

"Malfoy! We should have guessed!" exclaimed Harry. "What do you plan to do to the poor boy now?" He was deliberately antagonising them, and it worked.

"What? Us! No! He challenged _us _to the duel, not the other way round!" Seamus immediately clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Seamus!" whined Ron.

Hermione got a frosty look in her eyes. "And you were hiding here to… ambush him?"

"Err… not exactly."

Hermione wasn't buying it. "So where's Neville. He's usually with you two."

"Err… He's paralysed on the floor of the common room," answered Ron.

"He tried to stop us coming…" elaborated Seamus.

Hermione looked surprised. "That's quite a difficult curse, you two. I'm impressed. Harry, we should take them with us," she said, turning to her friend. "Keep them out of more trouble." Harry was annoyed and worried at the sudden doubling of the team he had planned to consist of only one, and was about to refuse adamantly, and send Hermione back to Ravenclaw Tower – forcefully if necessary, when he felt _it_. The _wrongness_ of Quirrel's turban was clearly passing the top of the secret passageway. The painting which concealed the entrance began to swing open, and Harry urgently bundled the other three out of the passageway. He pushed them all, silencing their protests with urgent hand gestures, behind a statue of a wizard with a stupidly wide ruff in between two burnt out torches.

The curtain at the bottom of the secret passageway parted, and Quirrel stepped from the passageway. The three students behind Harry let out stifled gasps, which caused Quirrel to turn. He stared directly at their hiding place for what seemed like an eternity; all the while Harry wishing that he knew enchantments of concealment. But Quirrel seemed to see nothing, and continued down the corridor, away from their hiding place. As he left, he flicked his wand over his shoulder, but Harry saw no effect.

He and the others unfolded themselves from behind the statue.

"Right, you three," began Harry, "back to…"But he was prevent from finishing by something flickering at the edge of his vision. A shadow detached itself from the gloom of the alcove behind the statue, and began to crawl across the stone floor towards them. Hermione and Seamus clutched each other in fear, and Ron began to whimper. For a moment, Harry too stood frozen in horror. But he regained his wits quicker than the others, and realised that, with his parting spell, Quirrel had animated a shadow. He had seen them after all. The shadow would, if allowed, consume them and they would wander blinded in its depths, tormented in the ink blackness by the Dark Magic construct that Quirrel had provided it for a mind. The thing began to expand, filling the corridor with its gloom, and blocking off their escape down the corridor and up the secret passageway.

"Run!" shouted Harry to the others. His cry snapped them out of their stupor and they need no second warning. They barrelled down the corridor after Quirrel, and Harry turned to face the creature. Luckily, there exited a very simple way to repel and contain a creature such as this. Light. Harry pulled out his wand. While he couldn't summon natural light energy with little more than a gesture in the way his Grandmother could, the artificial beam of the _Lumos _charm would work perfectly. It wouldn't destroy the creature – a proper counter-curse would be needed for that, but Harry could prevent it from spreading. However, it would likely mean that their escape would remain blocked. He flicked the wand, muttered the incantation, and his wand tip glowed. He fed more magic through his wand, and the small pinprick of light flared into a great beacon. The shadow shrank exponentially as all gloom in the corridor fled. Harry felt a presence brush his mind, filled with slippery _wrongness_, but Harry bravely shook it off, and continued to funnel magic into his light. It soon penetrated every nook of the corridor, containing the shadow to the darkness at the other end of the corridor and behind the curtain and the statue. Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry muttered a short charm which allowed the light to remain even when he left. The glow detached itself from his wand, and hung in mid-air. Harry ran after his friends, making a mental note to inform the headmaster about the demon now resident on the fourth-floor corridor.

xxx

Harry let out an involuntary cry as he fell from the clutches of the Devil's Snare, which released him as it fled from the brightness of Hermione's fire charm. Completely unnecessary, of course as Harry had been in the process of removing the tentacles himself, with his own magic, but Hermione had beaten him to it. Ron, Seamus and Hermione fell on to the hard stone floor alongside him. Hermione stood immediately, dusting herself off. Harry pulled Seamus up with him as he stood, but Ron lay gibbering on the floor. Seamus gave him a light kick.

"Oi, snap out of it mate." At length Ron calmed and pulled himself to standing. He looked even more shaken than after their encounter with the three-headed dog, which Harry had calmed in its own language while Hermione kept Ron and Seamus outside.

They made their way down a dimly lit passageway, approaching a heavy wooden door. A faint fluttering sound found its way to their ears. It sounded like birds, but almost with a metallic edge to the sound. As if the birds were powered by clockwork. They pushed open the door, revealing a chamber with a vaulted roof that reached higher than they could see, disappearing into the gloom. Thousands of bright creatures flew through the air, sedately, almost nonchalantly. A single broomstick floated in the centre of the chamber, slightly higher than waist height. Beyond the broom stood another door.

"They're keys!" breathed Ron. Harry's head snapped back up to look at the creatures, and indeed, Ron was right. Each had a small pair of feathered wings bewitched onto them, and Harry was sure that one would fit the door on the other side of the chamber. He ran over to try it, but even after casting the unlocking charm, it remained shut tight.

"We need to catch the key for the door," he told the others. "It's probably similar to the door handle. Old and heavy. Probably rusty."

"Look!" called Hermione. "There's one there with a broken wing. Probably where Quirrel shoved it into the keyhole."

"Hang on a second," said Seamus. "You think a _teacher_ is trying to steal this thing? How did you work that one out?"

"I…um… overheard someone," lied Harry. "And you saw what he did with that shadow." He quickly changed the subject. "Seamus, you're the best broom rider here. Can you catch that key?"

Seamus scoffed. "Easy! They're going so slow…" As he spoke he mounted the broom, and kicked off. As soon as he left the ground the keys began to circle him like predatory birds. They dived at him, building up speed as they fell. Hermione shouted a warning at Seamus, and he managed to swerve aside, but the keys were now after him. He had little time to search for the key with the broken wing as the flock swarmed around him like hornets. He was soon obscured by a cloud of angry keys. A couple of times he managed to escape the deluge, knocking keys aside with his free hand, but he was soon re-engulfed. After five minutes of no success, a bloodied and bruised Seamus retreated to the ground.

"It's impossible," he gasped. "You can barely move up there."

Harry looked thoughtful. He could catch the key himself, if he transformed into a bird that flew faster than the keys. But could Ron and Seamus keep their mouths shut? He decided he'd have to trust them.

"Wait here," he told them. "I'll get the key."

"Harry," said Ron, "no offence mate, but you can't fly a broom like Seamus can."

"You're right, I can't," replied Harry as he raised his arms to make a 'Y' shape with his body. "But I _can_ fly like this." And his form shifted into that of a falcon, which spread its wings and leaped into the air.

Ron and Seamus watched open mouthed as Harry flew amongst the keys, which soon noticed the intruder and began to flee the predator. But like a hawk hunting a rabbit on the ground, Harry circled above them, and when he spotted the key, dived in pursuit. The other keys gathered in a cloud around his target, but he tore through them with his talons and sharp beak, and eventually grasped the key with his claws. He flew back to the ground, pursued by the other keys, and dropped the key into Hermione's open hands. As quick as she could manage she opened the door, and she Ron and Seamus, followed by the flying Harry, hurtled through, slamming the door shut behind them.

xxx

"RON!" The Queen's sceptre descended and Ron fell with a thud to the ground. Seamus moved in to checkmate the King, and then all three of them hurried to Ron's side.

"Is he all right?" asked Hermione.

Harry had his eyes closed and his hands hovering over Ron's prone body.

"What's he doing?" enquired Seamus. Hermione shushed him, and Harry opened his eyes.

"His collar bone has been broken, and he's been knocked out." He sat back on his heels. "I can fix this, Hermione," he continued, "but he will need to rest here. Preferably with someone to look after him."

"I'll stay," said Seamus immediately.

"Are you sure?" asked Hermione.

"Yes. Is there anything I need to do?"

"Just wait a second," said Harry.

He sat cross-legged beside Ron, and extended his hands again. Closing his eyes, he mentally reached out into the world, and pulled magic into himself. Reaching down, he lightly touched Ron's shoulder. Magic flowed into Ron's body. Harry directed it to the break and the magic did the rest, correcting the _wrongness_ of the injury, restoring the natural order. When the break was fully healed the magic dissipated, and Harry opened his eyes. Ron looked much healthier; less pale and ashen. He breathed normally, and slept.

"Seamus," Harry turned to the boy. "When he wakes you both need to get out. Get a message to McGonagall, or Dumbledore."

Seamus nodded.

Harry and Hermione stood and continued through the chamber into a passage on the other side. They pushed open a heavy door, and an unearthly smell assaulted their nostrils. In the centre of another dim cavern lay the body of a troll, even bigger than the one that they had fought in the girl's bathroom.

"Glad we don't have to fight that!" said Hermione. Harry nodded, but then noticed something else. A man lay on the other side of the room. Hermione noticed him with a start, and they cautiously approached. The man was face down and had black, greasy hair. Professor Snape.

"Snape!" exclaimed Hermione. "What's he doing here?"

"He's injured," said Harry. They carefully rolled the professor's body over, revealing a face as white as a sheet and a gash on his forehead that was weeping blood. But he wasn't unconscious. His eyelids were fluttering, but his breathing was ragged.

"Potter…" he gasped weakly. "Had to stop Qui- … ambushed…" Harry shushed him. "No!" cried Snape with what little force as he could muster. "Last room. Third… forward…" he forced out. "Seventh… back." His eyes rolled back in his head as he passed out.

"Can you heal him Harry?" asked Hermione. Harry nodded. He checked for other injuries in the same way as with Ron, and healed a couple of broken ribs. He took a powder from his bag, which he sprinkled on the wound on the professor's head. After muttering a few words, the gash began to close.

"He also has concussion. I'll be able to help it somewhat, but he'll need to go to Madame Pomfrey."

He spread his fingers over the man's forehead, and channelled a pulse of magic into the brain. He bolstered the body's natural energy as it struggled against the concussion. When he was done Professor Snape lay more peacefully.

Harry and Hermione continued through into the next room, and as soon as they entered a purple fire leaped into being behind them. Across the room black flames barred their way through into the next chamber. A table stood before them, on which rested seven bottles of varying sizes, and a sheet of parchment. Hermione picked it up and read.

"Of course! That's what he meant!"

"I'm sorry?" asked Harry. Hermione turned to him quickly.

"Harry, what did Snape say? With the numbers."

"He said: 'Last room. Third forward, seventh back."

"Yes," murmured Hermione. She reached forward and picked up the third in the row.

"This potion will allow the drinker to pass through the flames ahead. And this," she reached out for the seventh, "will allow the drinker to pass through the purple fire behind."

"But there's only enough for one drink of each," Harry looked up at Hermione. "I'll go on." He said. "You go back and help the professor and Ron and Seamus."

"Harry," started Hermione. "Are you sure?"

Harry nodded. He gave Hermione a hug.

"If I don't make it you can have free pick of the books in my vault." He grinned.

Hermione laughed weakly. She gave Harry the third bottle, and uncapped the seventh herself. Downing the contents, she walked back through the purple fire. When she was out of sight Harry did the same with his potion. It rushed down his gullet, icy cold. He stepped into the black flames, which produced a strange tickling sensation. Harry was through into another passage, which led to a brightly lit chamber at the end. He hurried down the corridor, and blinked when he entered the light of the cavern at the end. The light came from flickering torches in great stone stands around the walls. A familiar mirror stood in the centre. Harry realised that this was where he and Hermione had visited in their projection forms. Before the mirror stood Professor Quirrel, facing away from it. His turban was untied, and on the back of his head, reflected in the glass, was a terrible sight. Another face pushed its way through the skin of his scalp, monstrous and twisted. Its nostrils were slits and its red eyes glowered angrily at the mirror. The feeling of _wrongness_ that had followed Quirrel all year had reached its most intense.

"Harry Potter!" the second face hissed at him. "Do you know who I am?" In an instant, Harry did.

"Voldemort." Harry also knew in that same instant that Quirrel didn't want the stone for himself, but for Voldemort.

"Yes… Come Harry Potter," Voldemort seemed to croon. "Look into the mirror." Quirrel raised a hand, and Harry was dragged to stand in front of the glass.

"What do you see, Potter?" asked Quirrel.

Harry saw himself, but then his reflection reached into his pocket, pulled out a small red stone, and placed it back. A sudden weight appeared in Harry's pocket, and he knew he had the Stone. The same sense he had felt when he had met Hagrid with the stone months before returned.

"I…" he started.

"He has it!" hissed Voldemort triumphantly.

Quirrel pulled a wand from his robes, but Harry was ready. He pulled a dart of wind from the still air and knocked Quirrel's wand from his hand. Quirrel stumbled, but clicked his fingers, and ropes appeared around Harry's body. At the same time, fire sprung up at the entrance to the chamber. Harry fell to the floor as Quirrel approached. The feeling of darknessintensified as Quirrel reached towards Harry's pocket.

"NO!" screamed Harry. Quirrel's fingers were inches from Harry's pocket when, with a flash of accidental magic, the ropes were burned away. He transformed himself into a wolf, and sprang away from Quirrel. But Quirrel retrieved his wand and cast a Full Body-Bind Curse at Harry. As the curse hit him Harry was forced to revert to his human form. Again Quirrel approached.

He grabbed Harry's neck and lifted him off the ground.

"What _are_ you Potter?" But even as he spoke a heat grew at Harry's throat. Quirrel's hand began to steam and crumble as he screamed in agony. "What is this!" he cried to Voldemort.

"No!" hissed Voldemort in return. "Get the Stone!" Quirrel turned back to Harry, but the curse had worn off during Quirrel's lapse in concentration, and Harry sprang at him. He grasped Quirrel's head, which also began to steam, but that wasn't his aim. He sent his will into Quirrel's brain. He channelled magic in, and partially shut it down. Quirrel slumped, his eyes rolling back into his head. Voldemort's face disappeared from the back of his as the fragment of his soul was withdrawn into the core of Quirrel's being. Harry removed his hands and Quirrel's face stopped steaming. Burns showed where Harry's hands had made contact, but they weren't too serious. With Quirrel safely incapacitated, Harry turned his attention to the Stone. He drew it from his pocket and shuddered as the sense of unnaturalness that radiated from it. This Stone was _wrong_. The unnatural prolonging of life… His flesh crawled. He dropped it to the floor in revulsion and stepped away from it. Hoping that his limited rock-working abilities wouldn't fail him, he clawed his hands and turned his will onto the stone floor.

"Harry!" Harry turned in shock, dropping his hands, and saw Dumbledore at the doorway, framed in the firelight. The Headmaster strode over to him and grasped his arms. "Are you hurt Harry?"

"No sir," he answered.

Dumbledore gestured at the body of Quirrel. "Is he alive?"

Harry nodded. "I put him in a coma, sir. There is a something of Voldemort inside him. I don't really understand how…"

"I'm not sure if any of us understand how it is possible, completely."

"Professor, did you find Hermione, Ron, Seamus and Professor Snape? Are they all right?"

"Yes Harry, they are. Ron and Professor Snape are with Madam Pomfrey." He noticed the Philosopher's Stone lying on the floor. "What were you doing, Harry?"

"I was… about to destroy it, sir," answered Harry. "It seemed the best way to keep it from those such as Voldemort. Anyway, it is evil."

"Because it contravenes the natural order, I suppose?"Harry nodded. "Well, I have been in conversation with my old friend Nicolas Flammel, and we have decided that that is, in fact, the best thing to do. He and his wife will die, but then again, they have rather lived long past their time. Proceed, Harry."

Harry closed his eyes and returned his will to the stone floor, stretching out his clawed hands. For a moment nothing happened, then, with an almighty groan, the flagstones began to move. They cracked and buckled, rising up around the Philosopher's Stone. A chasm appeared in the rocks, widening inexorably. Flagstones rose up around the Stone. Then, with a sharp gesture from his right hand, the rocks came crashing down on top of the Stone. It shattered into a powder with a great crack, and was instantly buried beneath the rock. Harry relaxed his will and opened his eyes. A great scar ran across the stone floor, marking the place where the Philosopher's Stone had disappeared for ever into the bowels of the Earth.

xxx

Harry sat with Hermione, Ron, Seamus and Neville on the Hogwarts express, heading south to London. Slytherin had won the House Cup, with Ravenclaw in close second and Gryffindor third. Harry didn't mind. He didn't care one jot about the House Cup. In his mind, much had been achieved this year. He looked around the compartment at his friends, and smiled. While he was looking forward to spending the summer with his grandmother, he couldn't wait to return next year.

**AN: Thanks to all my reviewers and faithful readers! I'm so sorry that this has taken so long to get up, but things have been a little hectic recently! **

**AN: 8th May: I've updated this chapter in regards to a few issues that readers have raised. Please continue to review, they're invaluable! **


	13. Chapter 13 An Elfish Testimony

**The Circle Around the Fire**

**Chapter 13 – An Elfish Testimony**

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One

The summer passed quickly. Harry was in two minds about this – on the one hand he loved his Grandmother and liked being home with her, but he did look forward to returning to school. Harry was such a Ravenclaw at heart. Harry spent the entire time immersed in studies – Taqqiq had decided that it was time to teach him how to manipulate energy. So far he had only mastered light, but fire was well on its way. Lightning she would teach him later.

"That's it Harry," whispered Taqqiq, "Don't lose your focus." Harry's hand was held out in front of him, palm facing upwards. A small flame floated above his palm, flickering rapidly.

"Now make it grow," instructed Taqqiq. Harry focussed his will upon the fire, which began to expand, gradually becoming larger than his head.

"Command it to move."

Harry closed his hand, and the fire flickered and reformed, becoming a rope of flame which began to spin around Harry's fist.

"Well done Harry!" congratulated Taqqiq. "Not long now until you'll have mastered it. Control of larger fires will automatically follow this learning of control at an intricate level." She patted him on the back and told him to extinguish the fire. The fire vanished without Harry so much as batting an eyelid. Taqqiq nodded, impressed.

"Thank you, Grandmother," said Harry.

Taqqiq nodded again. "We'll need to buy your school supplies soon," she said as she and Harry returned to the cave. "We can go into Atarrvik tomorrow. I'm sure they'll have everything there." Atarrvik was an all-wizard community not too far from where they were. They ducked as they entered the cave, and Harry gestured, lighting the fire in the centre of the cavern. Taqqiq chuckled. "Always good to practice, Harry." Harry grinned back.

Taqqiq settled herself into a chair, and unfolded a piece of parchment from the table.

"Nothing on here seems too obscure," she said, reading down Harry's school list. "I'm not sure about your new Defence teacher though. He seems to have prescribed you his entire own works as your textbooks." She pursed her lips in disapproval. "Gilderoy Lockhart… Don't like the sound of him. Sounds like a bit of a nincompoop."

xxx

A few weeks later, Harry was sitting in the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and was finding himself agreeing with his Grandmother. Gilderoy Lockhart was a complete idiot. He wore bright turquoise robes, with fluorescent pink wiggly stars dancing across the hem, clashing completely with the rest of the robe – but there was nothing wrong with that in itself. The man wearing the robes was just as garish, but also very full of himself. He was rather good-looking, Harry allowed him that, but he spoilt it by overusing some disgusting gel type thing in his hair, and styling it into a ridiculous quiff. When his name was announced, he jumped to his feet, and gave a stupidly florid bow. Harry didn't see himself learning very much in Defence this year.

"What a poser," he whispered to Hermione. She was wearing a mask of disapproval that almost matched his Grandmother as she nodded curtly in agreement. Hermione didn't take kindly to anything that might possibly disrupt her learning. Then the food appeared, and Harry soon forgot their numpty of a teacher and tucked in. When dinner was over, Harry and Hermione hung around the entrance hall for a bit, catching up with Ron, Seamus and Neville, in order to avoid the first year rush. Seamus was taking them through a play-by-play account of his numerous Quidditch practices when Harry was attacked by a first year with a camera.

"Hi Harry! I'm Colin Creevey!" he announced. "Can I take your picture?"

"Err… I s'pose…" he was immediately blinded by the flashes from Colin's camera.

"Thank you," said Hermione, tapping him on the shoulder firmly, "that's enough now."

Colin darted off, calling his thanks over his shoulder. Ron and Seamus wore poorly contained smirks and were trying to stifle their laughter at Harry. Harry shot a glare in their direction.

The slowly made their way up the Grand Staircase, separating part-way there, the Gryffindors continuing up the staircase, Harry and Hermione taking the shortcut behind the statue of Theodora the Thaumaturgist.

They reached the common, and answered the riddle of the door keeper (_What collapses as it is built, yet is perpetually complete?_). The door swung open, and Hermione walked in, but Harry hung back for a second. Something felt slightly out of place.

And then he heard it.

"_Harry Potter,_" something whispered. Harry cast around for the source of the voice, but saw nothing. The voice spoke again, and Harry called back: "Hello! Anyone there?" He almost jumped out of his skin when a small, wizened hand poked out from behind a suit of armour and beckoned to him. Harry approached cautiously.

"It's safe to come out," he said to the suit of armour, or whatever was behind it. "There's no-one else here." The suit of armour wobbled slightly as a small figure crept out. A House Elf, with eyes the size of tennis balls, and great bat-like ears, gazed up at Harry. He was dressed in a very filthy pillowcase. He bowed low, forehead grazing the floor.

"Mamanti Harry Potter," said the House Elf very quickly, still sunk in his deep bow. "I is knowing of the Mamanti Protector at Hogwarts, and I is coming to warn him. I is Dobby, sir. Dobby is coming to Mamanti Harry Potter to tell him something secret."

"You can stand up straight now, sir," said Harry when Dobby paused. "And you can just call me Harry." Dobby straightened as fast as a whip, eyes wide.

"Did Harry Potter just call me 'sir'?"

"I did, sir," answered Harry. "Now please, do continue."

Dobby's eyes were as wide as saucers, but he carried on speaking.

"Dobby is hearing things, sir. Dobby is not supposed to hear these things sir, oh no, but Dobby knows that if they are not warned at Hogwarts then terrible things will be happening. They are plotting, you see, they…" Dobby stopped abruptly.

"What's going to happen?" asked Harry, urgently. But Dobby didn't seem to hear, and he began to hit his head against the hard stone wall.

"No… can't say… Must… No…" he gasped.

"Stop it, Dobby, stop it!" exclaimed Harry. He grasped at the neck of Dobby's pillowcase and dragged him away from his torture. Dobby squirmed and squawked, by calmed down after a moment.

"Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter," he muttered. "Dobby finds it difficult, you see. Dobby will be punished, oh yes, punished indeed if they finds out that Dobby was here…" The Elf shuddered. "They is going to make very terrible things happen at Hogwarts this year Harry Potter. They is saying that…" he broke off again, clapped his hands over his mouth, and began to reach for the sword held by the suit of armour. Harry managed to stop him just in time, although Dobby put up a fight. When Harry had calmed him down, he whispered something.

"I'm sorry," said Harry. "What was that?"

Dobby leaned closer to Harry, beckoning him down to his level, and said, very quietly, into his ear: "_It will open again._"

And he vanished.

Harry's mind was reeling. What on earth could he have meant? Harry stood swiftly, and made sure there was still no one around. Gathering his concentration, he spun on his heel, and leaped into the air as a falcon. He flew as fast as he could manage down the corridor, taking a sharp left and almost crashing into a startled third year. A closed door loomed ahead frightening fast, but he forced it open with a hastily summoned gale. He soared through the door and burst out onto the top of the Grand Staircase. The chasm below, bordered by the intricately winding spiral steps, yawned beneath him. He wheeled in a tight circle, before banking and diving down the shaft of the tower. He fell, faster and faster, hurtling past a gaggle of Hufflepuff first years on their way to their common room, before swerving tightly, smoothly breaking his dive, and curving neatly onto another corridor, until a winged gargoyle reared itself ahead of him. As he flew he shifted back into human form, immediately breaking into a run as his feet hit the ground. He ground to a halt in front of the gargoyle. It was impassive, even when he tried the password from the previous year. But he needn't have worried. Footsteps sounded from round the corner of the deserted corridor. Professor Snape strode into view, robes billowing behind him. He frowned when he saw Harry.

"Mr Potter," he called. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you have returned to your common room?"

"I'm sorry sir," said Harry. "I must speak with Professor Dumbledore."

"He's currently in a meeting with the staff. I'm sure you can wait."

"I'm sorry, sir," repeated Harry, "But it's urgent."

Snape's frown deepened, and his black eyes glinted. He seemed convinced, however, as he turned to the gargoyle and announced the password. The statue sprang aside, revealing the moving spiral staircase. Snape gestured for Harry to ascend. Snape followed.

At the top of the staircase, Harry knocked on the heavy wooden door. It swung open of its own accord, and in the room behind it were seated the collected staff members of Hogwarts around a round table. The spindly tables and instruments from last year had all been moved to the edges of the room, and Fawkes was perched regally on the back of Dumbledore's chair.

Dumbledore stood.

"Severus, welcome," he said. Then he noticed Harry, and frowned slightly.

"Is there a problem, Harry?"

"I think so, sir," answered Harry. All the eyes in the room were on him, including the past Headteachers in the portraits, and Harry began to feel a little nervous. "Is there somewhere I can talk to you in private?" Dumbledore nodded. He voiced his apologies to the teachers as he pushed his chair back in. He left the table and gestured for Harry to follow him. He pulled out his wand, and flicked it at one of the bookcases that lined the walls. It swung inwards, revealing a small tower room, replete with rugs and tapestries. Harry entered behind the Headmaster, and the bookcase swung shut behind him, closing with a muffled thud.

"So Harry. What seems to be the problem?" asked Dumbledore.

Harry related what had happened since he had arrived at the common room. As he related what Dobby had told him, the worry lines on Dumbledore's forehead grew progressively more pronounced.

"And then he said, 'It will open again'," finished Harry. "What does it mean, Professor?"

"I'm not entirely sure, Harry, but I have an idea," answered Dumbledore gravely, tugging at his beard. "And if I'm right, which I fear that I am, then this year may be over before it has started."

**AN: Thanks so much for reading. I hope you liked this chapter! Please review – even if you didn't like it, tell me how to improve.**

**Sorry for not updating in a bit, but hopefully the next one will be up again soon.**

**I made some minor changes to the last chapter if you haven't seen this story since the last update, but there not too necessary to read. It's just to make things more consistent with my own continuity, in response to the issues pointed out by Elfwyn.**

**If you're interested, please have a look at my other story 'God Rest You', which is also a work in progress, but will not be as long as this one. Here's the summary: ****After the defeat of Voldemort and his followers, Harry retreats from the wizarding world to recover at his own pace. Can he find healing and solace in the Muggle world? Warnings: Slash romance; some overt religiosity, but it's all symbolic.**


	14. Chapter 14 The Lonely Voice

**The Circle Around the Fire**

**Chapter 14 – The Lonely Voice**

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One

Harry neither saw nor heard anything dangerous for the next couple of months. But he knew that the staff were nervous. New rules were introduced about curfew times. Students were escorted between lessons by teachers. Punishments for being out of bead after hours were harsher. Harry also knew that the teachers were searching the school for the place that Dobby had said would open. The Chamber of Secrets. If Harry had researched correctly, it was supposed to be a myth, and the school had been searched many times before. Harry shuddered to think what sort of monster could reside within the Chamber.

Despite the heightened security, nothing untoward happened until the night of Halloween.

Harry had locked himself away in an empty classroom on the fourth floor, and was practicing summoning fire. The last thing his Grandmother had said to him before he boarded the Hogwarts Express had been: "Well, good bye then, Harry. Practice your fire. But don't hurt anyone."

A circle of fire, waist high and not burning the wooden floor, surrounded Harry. He had called it into being, and was now causing it to move outwards like an inexorable wall of flame. Anissu was curled over Harry's shoulders, watching the proceedings with disinterest. Harry had decided to allow him to come along this year, if only to prevent him from stowing away. When the fire reached the edges of the room, after ten minutes of painstakingly controlled expansion, Harry extinguished it with a flex of his will, picked up his bag, and let himself out of the room. He headed down to the Great Hall for the feast by way of a secret passageway to the second floor, whence he intended to take the Grand Staircase to the Entrance Hall, but something stopped him the moment he exited the secret passageway. The floor of the second floor corridor was flooded. Ankle-deep water stretched from wall to wall, and was still trickling out from under the door to the girls' lavatory. Harry began to pick his way across the floor, and was about to evaporate the water with magic, when something caught his eye. Red writing, still wet, was scrawled across the wall next to the girls' loos.

_The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, Beware._

Harry stared in wide-mouthed shock, then almost gagged when he realised that it was written in blood. Then his eyes travelled along the wall to the body hung from the torch bracket. Mrs Norris, Mr Filch's cat, was stiff and unmoving, but Harry knew she wasn't dead. He could still feel the life-force within her, but it was weak. He splashed across the corridor, and carefully lifted her down. She was as hard as stone, and almost as heavy. He cleared the ground of the water, and laid her down, bringing his will to bear against her affliction. To no avail, as she remained as still as a corpse. He rummaged in his bag for some herbs that he thought might help, but as he was sprinkling them ineffectually onto the cat's body, he heard a quiet noise. A slight rasping, like rough sandpaper on rock, seemed as if to come from the walls themselves. It was quickly drowned out by another sound. A voice.

"_Kill!_" it whispered. "_Gone. All gone!"_

Harry staggered back in terror. Anissu's head jerked up, eyes wide.

"It is here," he hissed. "The Plumed One. It is here."

The voice sounded again, further away, moving down. "_No more! Dead."_

"What was it, Anissu?" gasped Harry in Parseltongue. "It spoke the snake language, but nothing like I've ever heard."

But Anissu seemed to be in shock. He shuddered, and repeated, "The Plumed One. It is here."

"What's the Plumed One?"

Anissu merely shook his head.

Still shivering with fright, Harry bent down and carefully picked up Mrs Norris. As fast as he could while carrying the load, he ran downstairs to the Great Hall. As he entered through the doorway to the Hall, he covered the cat's body with his robe.

"Mr Filch!" he shouted across the hubbub. "Professor Dumbledore! Madame Pomfrey!" Dumbledore stood anxiously, and the room fell silent.

"Everyone will remain here," announced Dumbledore. "Kindly do not panic." He swept from the high table, followed by Filch and Madame Pomfrey. Harry led them to a corner of the Entrance Hall, away from the sight of the school.

"I tried to heal her, but…" he started helplessly, as he revealed the body of the cat.

"Mrs Norris?" sobbed Filch. He grasped at her body, clutching her to his chest. "What's happened to her? What's he done?"

"This is not Harry's doing, Argus," interjected Dumbledore. He sounded worried. "She has been petrified. This is magic of the darkest kind. Where did you find her, Harry?"

"On the second floor, sir. There's something you need to see there as well. Is there anything that can be done to help her?" He looked desperately at Madame Pomfrey, but she was shaking her head.

"Not right now. We will need a Mandrake Draught to revive her," she said.

"I believe Professor Sprout has a healthy crop of mandrakes," said Dumbledore. "When mature, they can be brewed into a potion to remove the curse. Now what is on the second floor Harry?" His eyes, normally kindly and warm, were hard and worried. Anxious lines creased his forehead.

"There's a message…" Harry answered. He turned and started up the stairs to the second floor. "You need to see, sir." Dumbledore sent Madame Pomfrey and Filch to the Hospital Wing, and followed Harry up the stairs in worried silence.

"There was loads of water on the floor too, sir. But I evaporated it," mumbled Harry when they reached the second floor.

Dumbledore seemed to ignore him. He stared wide eyed at the blood scrawled across the opposite wall.

"No…" he muttered to himself. "I must speak with the staff. We must evacuate the school."

xxx

"Harry, can you remember anything else about the voice?" Harry was standing in Dumbledore's office in front of the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall. It was later on Halloween evening and Dumbledore had just announced to the school that they would be leaving the castle for it to be thoroughly searched.

"Umm… It talked about killing. In Parseltongue. It said something was gone." Harry searched his memory for anything else. Everything was moving so quickly. "Yes! Anissu – my friend, he's a snake. – said something." Anissu poked his head out of Harry's sleeve upon hearing his name. Dumbledore didn't bat an eyelid at this, but McGonagall looked a little surprised. "He said that it was 'the Plumed One', or something. I don't think he even knew what he was saying. It was like he was in shock."

"We'll have to look in to it, Harry. Thank you," said Dumbledore. "You may return to your common room – I believe Professor Flitwick is waiting to escort you. Remember to pack for tomorrow." That was when they had planned the evacuation.

Harry left the office, and met Professor Flitwick at the bottom of the moving staircase.

"Come on, Harry my boy," he said cheerfully, but Harry could tell it was put on. The strain showed clear as day in Flitwick's eyes. They made their way up through the castle in silence to Ravenclaw Tower, Harry trailing behind Flitwick, deep in thought. _What creature, who speaks like a snake, can cause something to be petrified?_ Harry mentally listed Parseltongue-speaking creatures. _It's not the occamy, that doesn't slither, and I'm sure the sound before the voice was slithering. It's not an ashwinder; they couldn't live as long as the myth says. It's not a basilisk; they don't petrify, they kill. _Harry stopped suddenly. _But what if their eyes weren't met directly! Maybe Mrs Norris saw the basilisk's reflection in the flooded corridor!_

"Professor!" he called to Flitwick. "We need to…" But Flitwick urgently silenced him with a frantic gesture. He turned, and pointed, and there, lying just before a bend in the corridor, was the still body of Colin Creevey, hands clutching his camera before his face. Above him on the wall, the writing from earlier in the evening still glistened on the wall.

Harry rushed to him, desperately drawing his will, but again, as with Mrs Norris Colin was not healed. He tried again, and again, but to no avail. Then he heard something that made his blood run cold.

"_Kill! Let me rip you. Let me tear you! Kill!" _

Anissu stiffened around Harry's arm, shivering and whispering "It is here!" over and over.

"What's that noise?" asked Flitwick. Harry snapped out of his terror, to hear the same slithering sound as he had heard earlier. But much louder this time, as if it was only metres away. Flitwick approached the bend in the corridor, and glanced round the corner.

"Professor… no! It's a basilisk!" But he was too late. Flitwick's face contorted in horror. Desperately, Harry drew a curtain of water out of the moisture in the air, placing it in front of Flitwick in the hope that it would save him from the basilisk's deathly stare. The horror in Flitwick's features twisted into pain, and stiffening, he fell backwards. Harry rushed to his prone form, placing his hand lightly on his forehead. Relief rushed through him when he felt the weak pulsating of Flitwick's life.

Anissu's whimpers became louder and more agitated, crushing his relief, and slowly, Harry looked up. He began to shiver as he saw the tail of the huge creature curled up in the corridor before him. He deliberately stopped himself from looking further up the snake, covering his vision with his hand to stop himself seeing the head. He could hear the deep breathing of the giant serpent, which was drowned out by the thumping of his heart when the part of the body he could see began to move, uncurling and moving towards him. He tried to calm himself, his breath coming out in shaking gasps, and, with a shivering hand, gestured at the floor in front of him.

Fire leapt up, quickly blocking off the corridor. He flexed his will, flicking flaming darts at the serpent. The basilisk loosed a terrible snarling roar, and reared back, but did not flee. It remained at a safe distance from the flames, poised to strike.

Harry racked his brains for anything he could remember about basilisks. _Didn't they fear roosters?_ Hoping that his hunch was corrected, Harry spread his arms, still carefully avoiding the gaze of the creature. His form shifted, shrinking. His arms became wings, and he flew up as a rooster, Anissu clutched in his claws. The basilisk screamed, hissing and snarling, and fled the bird. Coil after coil of the creature slithered off down the corridor. When the tip of its tail had left Harry's frame of vision, he looked up, transforming back into a human, and checking Anissu was safely back up his sleeve. The snake was disappearing into the girl's lavatories. He extinguished the flames and chased after it, peeking carefully around the doorway to make sure it wasn't lying in ambush. But it wasn't. A great hole had opened up in the wall and floor of the loos, where a sink had been sunk into the floor. The basilisk's tail whipped out of sight into the tunnel revealed behind the sink – the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets finally unmasked. Without thinking, Harry followed it through, almost slipping on the damp floor of the tunnel. The entrance slammed shut behind him, engulfing Harry in darkness, so he conjured a bright light around his fist, not wanting to be hindered by a wand. The tunnel sloped down, going deeper into the bowels of the castle. When it began to level out, the walls were practically dripping with moisture and slime, and the ground was covered with the bones of small rodents. The basilisk was quicker than Harry, and it was nowhere to be a seen as Harry made his way through the damp dungeon. Columns, intertwined with stone serpents, bordered his path, and rustlings in the dark edges of the tunnel alerted him to the presence of hordes of writhing snakes.

He came to a circular metal door, set deep in the stone wall. A carved snake was coiled on its face, rearing up as if to strike. Harry spoke to it in Parseltongue, and it swung inwards slowly, revealing a great cavern, reaching higher than he could see. Stalactites hung down out of the darkness, and a stone causeway led in between two pools of water, flanked by statues of snakes with gaping maws. A giant stone face took up the entirety of the furthest wall – Salazar Slytherin himself. The basilisk lay coiled before the statue, staring warily down the cavern towards Harry, who immediately averted his eyes. He held his hand out in readiness to cast fire at the creature, but it did not approach.

He called to it in Parseltongue.

"Plumed One! Why do you hunt the humans?"

The great snake shifted, coils rustling and slapping against the wet stone floor.

"_It is as he commands._"

"Who is he?" asked Harry.

"He came before," hissed the basilisk. "And he comes again, but now he speaks through her."

"What is he called by other humans?" It sounded as if someone at the school had been possessed by whoever the basilisk was talking about.

"I know not," it answered. "He is my master. He was foretold of by my maker. He commands, I follow. Such is as I am bound." With a jolt, Harry realised it referred to the legend of the Heir of Slytherin being the only one able to command the basilisk. The creature must have been enchanted by Slytherin to only follow the commands of his Heir.

"What are you called, Plumed One?"

The basilisk uncoiled slightly and breathed inwards heavily. "I was called Nysa by my maker."

"Will you allow me to remove the enchantment, Nysa?" Harry hoped to high heaven that he actually knew how to remove such an enchantment. His theory was that he could heal it away, but it was just a theory.

"Do you oppose my master?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he called what he hoped was the right answer. "Yes. Would you like to be free of his command?"

The basilisk snarled at him, baring its fangs. "If you lie, I will kill you."

Taking that as a yes, Harry advanced cautiously down the Chamber. The basilisk was as still as a statue as he neared it. Harry kept his hand in front of his eyes to avoid its gaze, but found it quite difficult to remain unafraid as the distance between himself and his possibly, if not probable, death, closed.

When he stood a foot away from the basilisk, he stopped and raised his hand.

"Please place your head by my hand, Nysa." His voice shook slightly as the basilisk moved its huge head to rest on the ground in front of Harry. Without looking, Harry placed his shivering hand gently onto Nysa's snout. He immediately sent his awareness through into the basilisk. Straight away he could feel the compulsion magically laced through Nysa's mind. He focused his will against, and drew magic, which he directed to remove the enchantment, much as he would a concussion or headache. To his relief the enchantment began to fail, weakened as it was by a thousand years without renewal.

The basilisk shivered as his millennium of servitude came to an end.

"I am free!" He cried. Immediately he reared up, and snarled his liberation to the roof of the cavern, before turning back to face Harry.

"You may look upon me, liberator," he hissed, gratefully. "No harm shall befall you." Harry knew that snakes found it very difficult to lie, but it wasn't without trepidation that he lowered his hand, and looked up at the basilisk. But he needn't have worried, as Nysa had his eyes closed, obscuring his deathly gaze. Harry realised why Anissu had called him the Plumed One – a great scarlet plume grew atop his head. "I am in your debt, liberator," Nysa continued. "I will aid you when you require, as long as it serves my purposes."

"Thank you, generous Nysa," said Harry. "May I ask something of you now?" Nysa inclined his head.

"When the one through whom your old captor speaks returns, please do not harm her."

"I shall not," hissed Nysa. "She is a young human, with hair the colour of fire."

Harry gasped. "Ginny Weasley!"

**AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Quick question: in general, would you prefer infrequent long chapters, or more frequent but shorter ones? Thanks**

**About the basilisk – some may be wondering why he doesn't just kill Harry when he follows into the Chamber. My reasoning was that he hadn't been ordered to, so didn't need to; he doesn't like being under the command of Voldemort, so lets Harry heal him; and he was already frightened of him because he had turned into a rooster – the call of the rooster is fatal to a basilisk.**

**Thanks to all my reviewers! A couple of people have asked what the answer to the riddle (_What collapses as it is built, yet is perpetually complete?_) is. I don't really have a complete set-in-stone answer to it, it just sort of came to me, but in my mind Hermione answered 'love' to it, and the door opened. Also, if anyone can suggest a better summary for this story, it'd be much appreciated :)**


	15. Chapter 15 Who's the greatest sorcerer?

**The Circle Around the Fire**

**Chapter 15 – Who's the greatest sorcerer?**

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One

**Warning: **One instance of slightly bad language in this chapter. Thought you ought to know.

Harry raced from the Chamber of Secrets, stumbling through the circular doorway, passing the hordes of writhing snakes in the darkened corners of the tunnels. He became a hawk to fly up the slippery slope that led down from the girl's loos, hissing a contorted Parseltongue command through his beak when he reached the closed entrance. It grinded slowly open, and Harry flew through as soon as it was wide enough. He left the bathroom, soaring over the still forms of Flitwick and Colin, making his way back towards Dumbledore's office.

As he approached the gargoyle that guarded the doorway, it sprang aside, revealing McGonagall, who was just leaving. She started in surprise at the bird of prey winging its way down the corridor towards her, but looked no more surprised when it dived to the ground, shifting into human form.

"Professor!" he exclaimed. "I must see the Headmaster!"

"Professor Dumbledore is rather busy, Mr. Potter," she replied. "Unless it is of the utmost urgency…"

"It is, it is!" he interrupted.

She stood aside, allowing him entrance to the moving staircase behind her, which he rushed up, McGonagall following closely.

The door at the top of the stairs stood open, and Harry rushed through without bothering to knock.

"Sir!" he called as he entered the office. Dumbledore was already standing and walking around his desk.

"What is it, Harry?" he asked.

"It's a basilisk, sir," gasped Harry, his dash from the depths of the castle finally catching up with him. He breathed deeply for a moment, then continued.

"Professor Flitwick and Colin Creevey are both petrified, and I can take you to them, but they aren't in any more danger, sir."

"How so?"

"I followed the basilisk into the Chamber of Secrets, after frightening it by turning into a rooster. It was created by Salazar Slytherin, and bound with an enchantment placing it under the control of Slytherin's heir. Nysa – the basilisk – let me heal the enchantment away. He doesn't want to be under anyone's control. But he promised that he wouldn't harm other students."

"Harry, are you sure of this?" Dumbledore frowned down at him.

"Positive sir," gabbled Harry. "Snakes don't lie very well."

Dumbledore's eyes flickered slightly, but said nothing for a moment. He breathed in deeply, letting it out as a sigh.

"I must speak with the basilisk – Nysa, am I right?" Harry nodded.

"I can lead you sir, and translate if you wish."

Dumbledore nodded purposefully, before sweeping past Harry and out the door.

"It would be much appreciated if you would translate my side of the conversation, but otherwise, it won't be necessary. I can understand Parseltongue."

Harry started in surprise, before following Dumbledore down the stairs. He should know better than to underestimate the Headmaster.

"And also, sir," Harry called ahead to the professor, "I think the Heir of Slytherin has possessed Ginny Weasley."

"Very well," answered Dumbledore. "I will investigate."

xxx

Harry and Dumbledore approached the main cavern of the Chamber of Secrets, making no effort to mask their presence in order not to startle the basilisk. As they entered between twisting serpentine pillars, they averted their eyes immediately. Nysa lay coiled in exactly the same position in which Harry had left him, gazing warily down the snake-flanked causeway.

"So soon have you returned, Liberator," he hissed.

"My apologies, Nysa," Harry spoke calmly, but kept his eyes firmly closed all the same. "I have brought Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of the school above, to meet with you."

Nysa shifted and raised his plumed head.

"I will meet with him," he said, uncoiling and approaching the humans slowly. "I will obscure my gaze, so that you may look upon me with no fear."

As a sign of good faith, Harry opened his eyes immediately. Dumbledore was slightly more cautious, lowering his hand from his face slowly.

Nysa stopped his slithering approach, coiling directly before Dumbledore, and bringing his snout close to the wizard. His forked tongue flickered from his fanged mouth, tasting the air around Dumbledore, his own eyes tightly closed. "He has much human magic, this wizard."

"I thank you, Nysa," said Dumbledore, giving a bobbing little bow. "I have come to meet with you for I understand that you have recently been freed from the control of the Heir of Slytherin." Harry duly translated.

"Yes," hissed Nysa, the sibilants echoing from the walls of the cavern. "The Captor has no longer any power over me."

"Is there any way that I might find out the appearance of this wizard?" asked Dumbledore. Harry thought this question a little odd sounding, but said nothing else apart from his direct translation.

"There is," answered Nysa. "I will show you." He pulled away from Dumbledore and Harry, throwing back his plumed head and snarling. More gently, he returned to rest his head above them. With a squeeze of his facial muscles, a single shimmering tear escaped from under Nysa's closed eyelid. It fell onto Dumbledore's upturned forehead, not splashing, but disappearing through his skin, his eyes rolling back in their sockets. Harry stepped back slightly in surprise.

Dumbledore stood silent for a few moments, barely moving a muscle. Harry shifted uncomfortably as he waited.

Eventually Dumbledore shook himself, as if waking from an unexpected nap.

"Again I thank you, Nysa," said the Headmaster firmly. "Your Captor is known to humans as Tom Riddle," he hesitated slightly before continuing, casting a quick glance at Harry."Or perhaps more famously as Lord Voldemort." Harry's eyes grew large in shock. "Your suspicions were correct as well, Harry. Ginny Weasley has been under Riddle's control, and has been giving Nysa orders in his stead, possessing her through an old diary of his own. I will find her. Thank you for your help, and yours also Nysa." Harry translated. "You may return to your common room, Harry," said Dumbledore as he left the cavern with a swish of his robes.

xxx

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, the senior teachers arranged in his office facing him. He had explained the situation to them, and also his new dilemma. Ginny had apparently disposed of the diary, its power beginning to scare her. The heart of the problem lay in the fact that she had thrown it into the broken Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor, which meant It could now be anywhere in the castle. Ginny herself had been taken to Madame Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing to deal with the after-effects of the possessions, and her parents were on their way to the school.

"I will commune with the ghosts," Dumbledore was saying. "Pomona, would you speak with the House Elves?" Professor Sprout nodded. "Fillius and Minerva, see if you can't coax the Vanishing Cabinet into leading us to the diary. I will not have this dangerous object contaminating our school and endangering our students any longer. Report back to me when you have any news."

The teachers filed out, and Dumbledore let his head fall to the desk in anxiety. A Horcrux in Hogwarts! For he was sure that this diary was one. He pulled himself together and sat up, reaching for paper, ink and a quill. He began to write a letter to his friend Taqqiq, to keep her abreast of the situation regarding the Horcruxes of Voldemort. Having finished, he left his office to find the four house ghosts, the most influential ghosts in the castle.

Dumbledore needn't have worried about the diary lasting much longer at Hogwarts, however, as an elderly House Elf _cracked_ excitedly into his office early the next morning.

"Professor Dumbles!" she cried. "I is finding it!"

Dumbledore was immediately around his desk, kneeling in front of the old House Elf.

"Where, Loxy? Where did you find it?"

Loxy shook her large head sadly. "It is being a dark, dark object, Professor Dumbles. I is finding it in the dungeons, and to it I shall take you." She grasped his forearm with a surprisingly strong grip, and vanished with a thunderous _snap_.

They re-appeared in a dark stone corridor, a few floors below the castle. They were deeper into the dungeons than students were permitted to go, beyond both the potions classroom and the Slytherin Common Room.

"It hides in there, Professor Dumbles," said Loxy, pointing with a quavering finger at a crumbling old cupboard which stood against the far wall. "You is having to be very careful."

"I will be, don't worry Loxy," answered Dumbledore. He took his wand from within his robes, gesturing towards the cupboard door. It swung open, creaking loudly, spilling dust across the floor of the passage. The end of Dumbledore's wand glowed with light, allowing them to see into the cupboard. There was a single shelf remaining, the others having rotted off with age. Upon the shelf lay the diary, face down against the wood. The dust had spread away from the book, as if avoiding it, leaving a clear circle surrounding the object. With another gesture from his wand, Dumbledore levitated the book from its perch. He kept it far from his person as he inspected it, turning it slowly in mid air. Loxy shuddered.

"Thank you greatly for finding this, Loxy," said Dumbledore to the elderly House Elf. "It is much appreciated. You may return to your work if you wish."

"You is welcome, Professor Dumbles," Loxy beamed and bowed, before vanishing.

Dumbledore strode through the dungeons, heading back upwards to the main part of the castle. He would have to disturb Nysa once more.

xxx

Again Harry and Dumbledore descended into the Chamber of Secrets, Dumbledore explaining to Harry on the way.

"I don't know what your Grandmother has told you," he began, "but this diary," he indicated the book still floating in front of him, "is an object of great and dark power. I think it more apt if your Grandmother explain fully, but suffice to say that this thing must be destroyed."

"I know that Voldemort is Torn," replied Harry, "whatever that means."

"I'm sure Taqqiq will explain when you are a bit older."

The main cavern was empty when they entered, but after Harry called, Nysa announced his presence with a grunting hiss, and slithered from the pool to the left of the causeway.

"Greetings, Nysa," called Dumbledore, and Harry translated. "We have the item through which your Captor controlled the young human. Your venom is the only thing in the school with destructive power great enough to destroy it."

Nysa interrupted Dumbledore with a sibilant growl.

"I would gladly destroy the tools of my Captor."

"Very well," said Dumbledore, allowing the diary to fall to the stone floor.

Nysa reared high above it, preparing to sink his poisonous fangs into its pages, but a high keening sound began to fill the stale air.

The diary rattled and shook where it lay on the ground, pages fluttering anxiously. With a bright flash of light, it flew open. Immediately black smoke billowed forth, obscuring Harry's vision. A low chuckle filled the blackness, which slowly began to clear. The shining figure of a handsome young man wearing Hogwarts robes stood straddling the diary, attractive features contorted into a sneer.

"Why, Professor Dumbledore, what a pleasant surprise." He spoke in a smooth, cultured voice. "I see you have met my basilisk." He turned to face Nysa and spoke in Parseltongue. "What have they done to you that you don't kill them?" A rush of magic passed from the apparition to Nysa, gathering itself like a web around Nysa's mind. But whatever it was searching for wasn't there, as it crumbled and fell like dust.

"Be gone from this place, Tom." Dumbledore raised his wand against the apparition. The shade of Tom Riddle snapped around and bared his teeth in a surprisingly animalistic snarl.

"Who are you to command me, old man? I am the greatest sorcerer to have ever lived!"

A surge of inappropriate amusement rushed through Harry, exiting as a bark of laughter.

"Bollocks!" he snorted. The shade turned to face him incredulously.

"Harry Potter," he hissed. "What do you know, _child_?"

"Obviously quite a bit more than you."

"You dare…"

"Oh, shut up."

"_Enough!_" screamed the shade. The golden figure dissolved into a fine mist, which thickened, and gathered into the shape of a grinning skull. Nysa reared up once more, snarling at the smoky skull.

"Harry!" shouted Dumbledore, "Hide yourself. His attack will be indefensible with non-metaphysical magic."

Harry leaped behind Nysa, unthinkingly obeying the order of the Headmaster. Dumbledore had raised his wand. The skull image opened its jaws, threatening to engulf the old wizard. Dumbledore's face was set in stony anger, and he held his wand aloft, reversed in his hand, as if to bring it down and stab the smoke. He spoke a single word, and a thick light blossomed from his wand, billowing over the diary and its dark tendrils. The skull dissipated, replaced instead by a snake-like face, which opened its mouth and began to speak.

"It is futile, old man," it said in a soft voice. "For I am everywhere." Dumbledore said nothing in reply, but brought his wand down, slicing through the air. With a crack like a gunshot, the face vanished.

"Now Nysa!" he called. Harry hastily translated, and Nysa plunged downwards towards the diary, fanged maw gaping.

His powerful jaws snapped shut around the book. The smoke and darkness vanished instantly. A terrible wail filled the Chamber, and the golden figure of Tom Riddle returned. His face was gaunt and haggard, his clothes in tatters.

"No…" he gasped. "No…" Nysa spat out the mangled remains of the diary, which was covered in bubbling and frothing venom, dissolving the book even as they watched. The shade of Tom Riddle drew one last shuddering breath, before hunching over, as if throwing up. His body began to collapse in on itself, crumbling into dust, before he stood again, throwing his arms wide, and exploded.

Fine white dust swirled about them, before soaring away in a sudden rushing wind.

Shakily, Harry stood. He didn't remember having fallen over. He walked over to where Dumbledore and Nysa looked down at the diary, or what was left of it. Nysa had his eyes open, but didn't look at either Harry or Dumbledore, so they were safe.

"It is finished, Harry," said Dumbledore. "It's just a book now."

"This part of the Captor is gone, at least," continued Nysa.

Harry stared down at the mangled paper pulp that lay on the floor. He raised his hand. Fire flashed downwards, engulfing the object. In seconds it was reduced to nothing but cinders and ash.

xxx

"Harry! _Harry!_"

Harry was suddenly engulfed in a frizzy hug as Hermione barrelled towards him across the Common Room. "What's going on, Harry Potter? The walls of the castle were shaking, and you haven't been in the Tower since this morning. We're supposed to stay here at all times!"

"Don't worry Hermione, it's all over now. We're going back to lessons soon."

Hermione let out a perceptible sigh of relief at the mention of lessons restarting, before frowning again. "Don't distract me, Harry Potter! What's happened?"

"Oh nothing much," said Harry offhandedly. "Just a basilisk, a shade of Lord Voldemort; nothing too important."

Hermione gasped, wide eyed, and punched Harry on the shoulder.

"Tell me everything…"

**AN: Please review!**

**I know some of you will dislike the large part Dumbledore plays in the battle with Tom Riddle, but don't worry, Harry will face more and more of his battles alone, as he becomes more powerful and competent. **

**My thanks to my reviewers! And my apologies that this has taken so long.**


	16. Chapter 16 The Rat

**The Circle Around the Fire**

**Chapter 16 – The Rat**

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One

**Warning: **A little bit of bad language. Nothing major.

"Quickly, Poppy, the root!" Severus Snape hissed anxiously from his position hunched over the cauldron. Thick blue fumes engulfed his narrow form, almost completely obscuring him from Madame Pomfrey's sight. Gingerly, she carried the silent mandrake root across to him, peering her way through the smoke. She held it out to him, and he snatched it from her hand, plunging it directly into the brilliant blue liquid filling the cauldron. The potion roiled, engulfing the root with a blinding light, which quickly faded to a dull green glow.

"Another, quickly!"

They were in the final stages of brewing the Mandrake Draught which would save those who had been petrified by the stare of the Basilisk. The difficult potion had so far taken an entire week to concoct, and would turn out disastrous were anything to go wrong. Poppy and Severus had been working shifts to keep the cauldron under constant surveillance, but this toughest last stage required that they both be present. There was no way a person could accomplish what needed doing alone.

xxx

The remainder of the year seemed relatively uneventful, if one didn't count Lockhart's fleeing halfway through the spring term, being unable to handle the pressure of teaching. Professor McGonagall had had to fetch him back, about which she had not been best pleased, and the whole school had watched while she half dragged him back up the steps into the school as he trembled violently. Of course, Harry hadn't had much experience of Hogwarts being uneventful, so only having to worry about homework and lessons was a welcome break from worrying for his own and other people's lives.

He was reflecting on this as he basked in the first really warm sunlight of the year, while waiting for the Quidditch teams to traipse onto the pitch. He leaned back against the wooden bench, throwing his head backwards. A sudden jab to his side pulled him out of his reverie.

"Harry," hissed Hermione, "people are staring."

"Sorry," Harry yawned as he stretched. "I just like it when the Sun is warm, that's all." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You know who Slytherin's new seeker is, right?"

"Er… no." While Harry didn't mind watching Quidditch, following it avidly was something he could never bring himself to do. Just wasn't his thing.

"Malfoy." Hermione sighed. "As if that dick needs his ego inflating any more than it already is."

"Hermione! I am _shocked_!" Harry's head snapped round to look at his friend. "Such language."

Hermione chuckled and nudged against him gently.

"He deserves it. It's people like him who give Slytherin a bad name." Hermione was all for inter-house co-operation. And Ravenclaws actually got on reasonably well with Slytherins most of the time.

"I suppose he does." Harry grinned. "Oh look, they're coming out."

The two teams, Ravenclaw and Slytherin, tramped out onto the field, and the crowd cheered.

xxx

A bolt of fire streaked across the clearing, burning blindingly, before shattering against an invisible barrier. The air pulsed with light briefly, as the shock of the fire was absorbed. Fizzling sparks scattered across the ground, burning small holes in the grass.

"Yes, well done Harry!" Taqqiq approached out from under the trees at the side of the clearing. "I didn't feel that at all in my secondary barrier. Try to exert a more firm will upon the magic, though. It'd be even better if there were no visible aftershock." Harry nodded, breathing heavily. Taqqiq turned then to the other side of the clearing and addressed the tall young man stood there.

"Well done to you too, Vincent. _Votre modération était parfaite_." Vincent Auclair, Taqqiq's new apprentice, nodded in return.

"_Merci_, Taqqiq." While Harry was being trained in preparation to take up the role of Mamanti of the British Isles, Taqqiq was also required to train a suitable replacement for herself, as Mamanti of the Western Taiga. After much magical Searching, and considerable testing of magical power and strength of character, Taqqiq had decided on Vincent as a suitable apprentice. Vincent Auclair, fresh from studying Healing at the _Université de la Haute Magie_ in Quebec, was an excellent learner, and Taqqiq was very pleased with his progress. He and Harry also got on well, although Harry had only met him for the first time returning from Hogwarts for the summer holidays. Taqqiq worked them both very hard, but when they were both had time free, Vincent was teaching Harry French. Or at least trying, for while Harry had a gift for learning the languages of animals, other human languages seemed to elude him slightly.

"Now, Harry, when Vincent attacks this time, attempt to bind the energy before it hits, like I demonstrated yesterday. You remember?" Harry nodded and turned back to face the older apprentice.

"_Tu es prêt?_" called Vincent from the other side of the clearing, cocking his head to one side.

"Er… _oui_, I think." I hope I understood that right, thought Harry.

Vincent chuckled, amused, before gesturing almost carelessly with his left hand. A bolt of lightning exploded towards Harry, who reacted as quickly as the electricity itself. He threw his hands outwards, exerting is will. Time seemed to slow, and he felt the lightning broiling in the air before him. With a flex of his will, he placed his control upon the living energy. "_Be bound,_" he hissed, his speech resounding with the _Vox Praecantator_.

The leading edge of the bolt of lightning froze half way across the clearing. The rest caught up in less than an instant, forming a small glowing sphere between Harry and Vincent.

"Yes, that's it Harry," called Taqqiq. "Now, try to return it to its origin."

Harry gritted his teeth in concentration. This was most definitely the harder part. He focussed as intensely as he could upon the radiant sphere, willing the quicksilver energy to reverse its path. The lightning resisted; its natural tendency to earth itself was too potent to easily contend with.

"_Return,_" intoned Harry. The ball of lightning flashed angrily as Harry's magic brushed against it, but otherwise nothing happened.

"_Return!_" He repeated, pouring more power into the command. For instant, the lightning complied. It burst from its sphere, burning blue and silver, spiralling across the clearing towards Vincent. But Harry's control wavered in his jubilation at having succeeded, and the lightning trembled, before shattering and hurtling directly downwards into the ground.

Harry dug his fist into his palm in annoyance.

"Never mind Harry," said Taqqiq, picking her way towards him over the scorched grass. "It's practically impossible the first time. You'll get it, don't worry. But bear in mind that it'll be harder to bind and reverse a curse or other enchantment than something physical like lightning."

"Eez everything ok?" Vincent was jogging across the clearing towards them.

"Of course," said Taqqiq, flapping her hand at him. "Now go back, it's your turn next."

Wearily Vincent let out a sigh and turned around again, jogging back to his place opposite Harry. He put his hands up, ready to create a barrier. Taqqiq constructed her own underneath his, and then nodded to Harry.

Harry grinned as he raised his arm, palm outwards and already beginning to glow with summoned fire. There was nothing like hurling flames at something to relieve stress.

xxx

"Oh Harry, it's lovely to see you!" Harry was buried under a mass of bushy brown hair the instant the door opened. "Have you had a good summer so far? My parents are so excited to meet you. I've told them all about you!"

"Great thanks, you?" replied Harry, after extricating himself out from underneath Hermione's tempestuous locks.

"Yep, lovely. Can't wait for school though. Why do we have to wait another week?" Harry frowned at her, doubting her sanity slightly, not for the first time. Even as a fellow Ravenclaw, Hermione was just a _little_ school-obsessed.

"Oh, hello," she said, surprised, noticing the man standing by Harry for the first time.

"_Bonjour, mademoiselle_," said Vincent, giving her a little bow of the head.

"This is Vincent," explained Harry, gesturing with his thumb. "Taqqiq's sidekick." Vincent frowned in mock annoyance, and Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Her side…"

"I am not her _sidekick._" Interrupted Vincent. "I am," he glared at Harry again, drawing himself up, "ze heir to ze Mamanti of ze Western Taiga. She is busy, so I was tasked wiz bringing 'arry 'ere."

"Thanks for the lift, Vince," Harry grinned innocently up at him.

Vincent tried to frown, but couldn't stop himself from sniggering.

"'ave a good time at zat school of yours. I must return now." Harry waved goodbye, and Vincent nodded a farewell, before turning on his heel and vanishing with a flash of brilliant light.

"What was that?" asked Hermione, wide eyed.

"Worldwalking," answered Harry. "Come on, I'll explain later."

Harry picked up his trunk and together they entered the Granger house.

"He's really cute, Harry," announced Hermione as she led him into the front hall.

"Hermione!" he admonished.

"And he's got a sexy accent."

"_Hermione!_ He's far too old for you!"

Hermione just shrugged. "Don't you think so?"

Harry screwed his eyes up and tossed his head from side to side. "I refuse to have an opinion on the matter."

"Suit yourself," Hermione muttered, before leading him through into the living room, where her family were waiting.

Mr and Mrs Granger were very welcoming. They asked all sorts of questions about the wizarding world, Harry having grown up in it, sort of. Hermione's younger brother, Ben, was a very sweet and intelligent little boy. For the whole time that Harry was with the Grangers, he didn't see Ben once without a book, his fingers skating unceasingly across the Braille text. There must be a reading gene, mused Harry. But Harry did think that Ben's blindness did have one benefit to it – he couldn't see the distraught glances that his mother and father, and to some extent his sister as well, gave him whenever they were reminded of his predicament. Mrs Granger, for example, seemed hard pressed not to cry whenever she wheeled Ben in his wheelchair up to the dinner table at mealtimes.

xxx

"I think Ron and Seamus are going to be at Diagon Alley today, same as us," said Hermione on their second last morning before school. "I seem to remember reading it in a letter Ron sent."

"Yeah," said Harry. "Neville was complaining in his letter to me because his Gran wouldn't let him go on the same day."

They were sitting in a corner of Flourish and Blotts, each with a large book propped up against their knees. Mr Granger had dropped them off in London, so they could shop for school supplies, and as soon as they'd bought the necessities as fast as they could they'd immediately headed for the bookshop.

"You know," piped up Hermione, "I think I'll buy a cat."

"A cat? Why?"

"I'd like one. I mean, you have Hedwig and Anissu, and they seem happy with you." The little snake, who'd insisted on coming shopping with them, poked his head out of Harry's sleeve at the mention of his name.

"Well then," he hissed. "Let's find you a kitty!"

"Anissu, you won't be allowed to eat it."

"Oh." Annissu glumly withdrew.

xxx

Magical Menagerie was dark and smelled of animal droppings.

"The air tastes foul in here!" Complained Anissu, but Harry shushed him hastily when the owner bustled into the main shop area from the side room.

"I'm looking for a cat, please," said Hermione.

"One second please," answered the shopkeeper, not impolitely. "Let me just finish up with these gentlemen."

"Hermione, Harry!"

Two boys were following the shopkeeper from the side room.

"Oi! Fancy seeing you two here!" Ron and Seamus crossed the shop to greet them, and began to natter away about their summers before the shopkeeper cleared his throat from behind the counter.

"Oh, sorry," said Ron. He went up to hand some coins over. "Just buying some tonic for my rat." He explained when he'd returned, and Hermione had gone off, looking at cats. "He's not been looking very well recently." Ron looked rather upset.

Harry nodded in sympathy. "So Seamus," he said, changing the subject rather obviously, and turned to the sandy-haired boy. "Good summer?"

Seamus grinned broadly and launched into a swashbuckling tale about the adventures he'd had over the summer. Harry couldn't help feeling that he was exaggerating slightly with some of what he said. His was interrupted by Hermione's return.

"Look! Isn't he adorable?"

The three boys turned at Hermione's call. She was carrying what looked like a cross between a cat and a hairy carpet bag.

"His name's Crookshanks. I love him already!"

Crookshanks squirmed in her arms and purred in a slightly accented and rather bored form of Cat; "No need to be so enthusiastic."

xxx

A quarter of an hour or so later the four of them and Crookshanks were sitting outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour indulging in some frozen treats.

Crookshanks was sunning himself in a patch of warmth on the bench, and Harry surreptitiously sidled up to him, under the pretence of giving him a scratch behind the ears.

"So, Crookshanks," he said to him quietly in his own language. "If you don't mind my asking, where's your accent from. I can't place it."

Crookshanks stretched languidly, completely unperturbed by this human speaking to him in the feline language.

"It's not a regional accent, human. I am part kneazle."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but a shrill squeal cut him off.

"Ron! Really, get the rat off the table!"

"But Hermione! I need to feed him his tonic!"

Hermione then launched into a lecture on proper hygiene, but Harry's attention was drawn by Crookshanks, who had leapt to his feet, and was hissing violently.

"Er… Crookshanks? Is everything ok?"

The cat's back arched. "_That_ is not a rat!" he spat.

With that he hurled himself across Harry, landing sprawled across the table, Ron's rat clutched between his forepaws.

Ron and Hermione sprang back. Immediately Hermione began to scold the cat, and Ron desperately tried to tug him off the table.

"He's right," hissed Anissu, poking his head out from Harry's sleeve.

"Wait!" Harry cried.

"What! The beast's trying to murder Scabbers!"

"No, just give me a second." Harry came around to face Crookshanks from the front, where he was holding a terrified Scabbers down with his left forepaw.

"Crookshanks, let me see this creature," he meweled. Reluctantly the cat backed off, and Harry grabbed the rat before it could escape. As soon as he touched it, he knew that Crookshanks had been right. It was a human in the shape of a rat.

More curious than afraid, Harry took the squealing rat round the corner of the Ice Cream Parlour, into a small passage, to conceal them from prying eyes.

"What on earth do you think you're playing at?" Roared Ron, dashing in after him.

Harry held the rat as far away from him as he could, and reached out with his will. He soon found the enchantment which held the human in rat form, and with a flex of his will and a whispered, resonant command, destroyed it.

Immediately the rat began to grow and change. Elongating and twisting, with much cracking of bones and stretching of skin, a small, dirty man finally stood in the passage next to Harry.

Catching him off guard, Harry pushed him up against the wall by his neck, exerting his will against him to bind him in human form.

"Who are you!" he spat out at him. The man's wide eyes shifted insanely from side to side, looking for a way to escape. He was twitching and scuffling, rodent-like and disgusting. Ron, Hermione and Seamus were stood at the entrance to the passage, staring in open-mouthed shock. Ron's face in particular was twisted into a look of horror.

"Who are you?" Harry repeated, this time overlaying his voice with the resonances of the _Vox Praecantator_.

The man's eyes snapped to his in fear. Almost against his will, he began to speak.

"My name…" he broke off into a coughing fit. "My name is Peter Pettigrew."

Three gasps came from the entrance, and Harry almost lost his control over the magic keeping Pettigrew from transforming in his shock.

But his quick mind was already processing this information. This meant so many things! One of his earliest memories of his time with Taqqiq was of her telling him of his parents' deaths and of their betrayal by someone so close to them as for them to have trusted him to be Harry's godfather.

But this meant Sirius Black was innocent!

**AN: Finally an update! Hoped you enjoyed it, and hopefully the next one won't take months to arrive.**

**As my mantra always goes: Please Review!**


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